Redemption
by SGAFan
Summary: When the past catches up to them in more ways than one, the team find themselves facing an enemy who will stop at nothing to exact revenge. Takes place in the back half of season 2 after Epiphany.


_**Redemption**_

"_**Sometimes friends make mistakes. Grievous ones that cry out for us to stay and prove we are true friends."**_

― _**Beth Bernobich**_

_Season 2 after Epiphany and before Allies_

* * *

_**Prologue:**_

He was alone. Again.

After all he'd done to keep from being alone, he was. His friends, his comrades, the ones that understood him were dead. The ones he thought he could trust had abandoned him. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily, his heart pounding. Adrenaline and so much more coursed through him, giving him strength, steeling his determination, his resolve. He'd been alone before and survived. He'd do it again.

He clutched his gun tightly, reassured by the hard, cold feel against his palms. He peeked around the corner, his gaze narrowing as he watched two Wraith males stride purposefully down the corridor. The walls around him shook again. Another blast, and with each crippling blow, he waited for the world around him to explode, ending his existence. Alone, again.

Several tattoos, each symbolizing importance and rank, crisscrossed males' faces, necks and hands. These two were too important to ignore. He had no alternatives. The others were gone and his fate was his alone.

_So much for never leaving a man behind._

They left him. Again. Somewhere inside, a voice of reason whispered to him. _You told him to go, that you'd cover his six… that you'd catch up._ He shook his head, his blood pumping, pounding against his ears.

They'd left him behind!

He eased around the corner, silently following the males as another blast threw him into a nearby wall. He shook it off, regained his balance and rushed after the Wraith, keeping them in sight as they entered the dart bay. He followed, ducking behind darts, trailing them all the way to a shuttle. He waited and watched as they disappeared into the craft before he sprinted towards it, ducking bits of flaming debris falling around him. He soundlessly entered the shuttle and hid behind a console as the hatch closed behind him. The shuttle was big; the empty, main fuselage was designed to hold several Wraith, independent from the cockpit where both Wraith were seated, intent on flying the craft. He crouched low, balancing himself as the shuttle lurched off the ground. He felt the air around them shaking, and he had to grab the console in front of him as the shuttle banked, speeding towards the exit. The next thing he knew, the quiet of space surrounded them.

He took a deep, silent breath but didn't relax in the slightest. He didn't know where they were going, but from the looks of the hive as they'd left, anywhere else was better. Again, he peeked around the edge of the console and narrowed his eyes at the readings streaming across the shuttle's HUD. He couldn't read any of it, but the diagram of a space gate was unmistakable, as was all indication that his unsuspecting pilots had plotted a course for it. He closed his eyes and eased back behind the console. Sooner or later, he'd have to deal with the two Wraith; a task that could be tough on his own. A hot flush of rage surged in him, overwhelming the small voice of reason that told him he was being irrational. They'd left him behind! He was alone! He drew in another quiet, calming breath, pushing aside the feelings, letting the trained soldier take over. It was the only way he'd survive. He looked down at his hands, already starting to shake just a little, and he could feel the familiar let down start to take hold of his body. He'd have to deal with that, fix it, but one thing at a time. The one thing he had to think about now was eliminating the Wraith.

Abruptly, the shuttle shook. A tremendous force slammed into it and hurtled it forward. Somehow, he knew the only thing that could've caused such a hit was the destruction of the hive, maybe even both of them. He heard the Wraith hissing in anger an instant before the familiar tingling of gate travel overtook him. It lasted only a split second before he felt whole again. But even with the ships inertial dampeners, he immediately felt the rate of acceleration. Another round of hissing from the Wraith only confirmed his suspicion that they were in big trouble.

He braced himself, closing his eyes and accepting a fate he couldn't avoid. He'd either survive or die, and at this moment he didn't care which. He wasn't actively seeking death, but if it came he wouldn't mind. Though if he survived, he'd fight to stay alive. That was ingrained into him by training that seemed like it was a lifetime ago, and yet was still so fresh in his mind.

The impact of the crash was more than he expected, and he found himself helplessly thrown clear of the console. He slammed into a wall and searing pain ripped through his left arm, tearing a loud cry from his throat.

Then, abruptly, it was silent.

He struggled to stay conscious, to push back the pain, to focus, to survive. Another hiss sharpened his senses and he reflexively raised his gun, the only thing that saved him as one of the Wraith, clearly injured, charged at him. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger, sending a barrage of P-90 fire into its torso, driving it back against the opposite wall.

One handed, he struggled to control the P-90 but kept firing long after the Wraith stopped moving, until he knew there were too many bullet wounds for even a healthy Wraith to survive. He turned quickly, the pain in his arm momentarily forgotten, his gaze fixing on the other Wraith. He stared long and hard at it looking for movement, but the cold, dark eyes of the Wraith were as lifeless as his bullet ridden companion's. It was only then that he hunched over, gasping, moaning as he clutched his broken arm. It'd have to be set, somehow. He'd have to do it himself. He squeezed his eyes shut. By himself. On his own.

He was alone. Again.

He unzipped his TAC vest and carefully slid his arm inside, steadying it. He'd care for it later. First thing was first. He shifted his legs under him and slowly stood, staring at the dead Wraith for a moment before pulling his knife from the sheath on the left shoulder of his vest. He looked at the quivering tip of the blade, betraying the shake in his hand that was only getting worse. In spite of everything, a small smile turned up one side of his mouth.

He'd take care of that right now. Then, escape through the gate.

_You're one tough son of a bitch!_

Those words, spoken to him by one he'd once admired, maybe still admired, stuck with him.

He was alone. Again. But he'd survive. He always did.

* * *

"You know? I think I liked you better with the beard."

John arched his brow before reflexively scratching his clean shaven chin in response to Rodney's comment. It still felt a little weird to not have a beard, after six months of wearing one, but he didn't regret shaving it off for a second. "Why don't you grow one then?"

"Looked better on you, Colonel," Rodney immediately responded. "Nope, not for me. I don't want one of those shaggy, unkempt things."

"Unkempt?" Ronon grumbled.

John smiled, content to remain silent and leave Rodney to get out of the current corner he'd talked himself into on his own.

"Well," Rodney backpedaled, "I mean a full beard, not a goatee like yours. That's not so bad."

"Uh huh," Ronon answered.

John looked over at Teyla who walked along next to him, holding his smile as she flashed one of her own his direction before turning her attention back to the path they followed. "I'm glad to be rid of it," he said.

"Why did you grow one anyway?" Rodney asked.

John's smile faded and he furrowed his brows. He'd asked himself the same question, but never really came up with a good answer. He'd never been into beards before, but somehow it'd seemed right. Maybe he'd changed his appearance when his life had changed. Sometimes he wondered if it'd been a way to hide, mask his feelings of abandonment as the months had dragged on, even though his team had been racing to free him in what was, in their reality, mere hours. He shook off the feeling, avoiding the intuitive stare from Teyla that he could practically feel boring into the side of his face. "Just felt like it," he answered casually, hoping Rodney would drop the subject.

"Yeah, but…."

"It is certainly a pleasantly warm day." Teyla smoothly changed the subject.

John's smile returned. "Yes, it is."

"Right," Rodney answered, not trying to mask the annoyance in his voice at all. "Yet another underdeveloped society to make friends with. One more exciting day in the Pegasus galaxy."

"The Metharians trade with many people in the galaxy," Teyla said. "To have their trust would be very beneficial for information in the future."

"I'm always game for good sources of intel," John added, holding his smile as a village came into view. He kept walking and smiling as people started to pass them, their gazes slightly guarded but not hostile.

"Okay, Teyla," John looked around, "where to?"

"The village center would be the most likely place to find someone of authority, or at least someone who can point us in the right direction." Teyla answered.

"Take me to your leader?" Rodney interjected.

John chuckled quietly and then shook his head at Teyla's confused expression. "Nevermind. Village center it is." He kept walking, rounding a large building and heading for what looked like the middle of the village.

"Sheppard."

John stopped in his tracks, immediately recognizing the warning tone to Ronon's voice. The big Satedan had only been on his team for a few months, but they'd gotten to know each other pretty quickly. John turned and faced him. "What is it?"

He followed Ronon's gaze to a woman who stared intently at them, and slowly walked their direction. John held a small smile, but felt a little on guard and could see why Ronon had spoken up. The woman's expression was serious, almost grave, and her stride was cautious. He couldn't put his finger on why, but his instincts shouted a warning at him, and after serving in hot zones like the Afghan theater, he knew better than to ignore his intuition.

"Easy," he muttered, not only for Ronon but for himself. "Let's see what she wants." John smiled just a bit wider, even though he didn't feel like it. Pegasus had punched him in the mouth a fair number of times, but he refused to let that make him suspicious of everyone and everything. "Hi," he said.

The woman stopped. Her eyes slowly scanned him from top to bottom, before she did the same for the other three on his team.

"He-llooo?" Rodney's voice was slightly impatient and John shot him a warning glance.

John refocused on the woman. "Can we help you with something?"

Her gaze settled on him again and she pushed a wisp of blond hair off her angular face. "You're from Atlantis." There was no question in her words, only calm confidence.

John stiffened just slightly at her unexpected statement, and then shrugged to cover it. "Never heard of it."

The stoic expression on her face cracked as she gave him a knowing smile. "I have a very important message for the people of Atlantis." She took a deep breath. "Something they would want to know, but if that is not you, then…." She shrugged, turned, and started walking away.

"Uhh…." Rodney stammered, his tone uncertain.

John looked at him, and then Teyla, as his mind raced. They couldn't confirm the existence of Atlantis, even if somehow this woman knew of it. At the same time, if she had some crucial piece of intel, he couldn't let her walk away either. "Damn it," he muttered.

"We must know what she knows," Teyla's comment echoed John's thoughts.

John nodded. "Wait," he called, his voice stopping the woman, but she didn't turn and face them.

John's gaze briefly passed over each of his team members. "Stay here." He briskly walked over to the woman, circled around her and faced her.

She silently looked up at him, her gaze still knowing.

He sighed deeply. "Look, we **may** know some people that survived the destruction of Atlantis. Whatever your message is, we might be able to relay it to them."

Her expression relaxed a little, a note of smugness gracing it. "I will only speak with the people of Atlantis. If that is not you, then we have nothing further to discuss." She paused and glanced back at his team, before looking John in the eye again. "I must say, you all bear a striking resemblance to Colonel Sheppard's team."

John's eyes narrowed as he studied her expression. There wasn't one shred of doubt in her eyes.

She nodded. "Yes, Colonel, I know who you are. You have been described to me, in detail, as well as the clothing, mannerisms and weapons of anyone from Atlantis. My message could've been given to any one of your people, you just happened to be the first ones I encountered." She took a step closer and put a gentle hand on his forearm. "The secret of your people is safe with me, Colonel Sheppard. You have my word."

John sighed deeply and loudly. "Okay," he admitted. "Since you obviously know anyway, you're right, I **am** Colonel Sheppard. What do you need to tell me?"

She pulled her hand away from his arm. "There is someone that very much wants to see you, Colonel. So much that he sent me, and many others like me, to various well traveled worlds across the galaxy with the hopes of encountering one of your teams."

John's brows furrowed. "Who?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I cannot tell you. I can only give you a gate address. You will find him there." Her smile faded. "Do not ignore this, Colonel. Trust me, you **want** to see him." She pulled a small piece of parchment from a pocket in her rough spun skirt and handed it to him before turning away.

"Wait a minute," John stepped around her, blocking her path. "You can't just give me an address and expect me to walk in blindly."

She nodded. "He said that would probably be your reaction and told me to tell you that you must go. Take a," she paused, grasping for a word, "jumper if you want, but go." Her expression turned sincere. "Colonel, you must," she insisted, "you will not forgive yourself, if you do not."

Again, she walked away from him, but this time, John made no move to stop her. He looked down at the piece of parchment in his hand and slowly unfolded it, his gaze passing over the symbols of a gate address and his mind racing. _What the hell?_ He quickly folded the parchment and tucked it safely in his TAC vest, before walking briskly back to his team.

"What was that all about?" Rodney demanded, but John waved him off.

"We need to get back to Atlantis, now." He glanced at Rodney. "I'll explain it to you when I explain it to Elizabeth. Come on." He set off at a brisk walk towards the gate, his mind trying to process what had just happened. They couldn't ignore this, not with everything this woman knew about them, but going to that planet meant they could be walking into a trap set by god knows who.

He shook his head and broke into a fast jog, hastily making a beeline for the gate, his team right behind him.

* * *

Contentment warmed her, sparking a smile on her relaxed face. Months she had waited for this day, not knowing if she would be the one to deliver the news, or another like her on another planet. She felt singularly honored that fate had placed that task on her shoulders. The Colonel, he was wary, and rightfully so, but she believed she'd convinced him to go to the planet and see Him.

She rounded a corner and started down a narrow alley. Her mission complete, she would gather her belongings and return to await another time where she could do something to help, something that would bring about the end of the Wraith.

So consumed in her thoughts, she did not notice a shift in the air around her until it was too late. From behind a hand latched over her mouth tightly and her arm was wrenched behind her back. She struggled but could not break free. Her screams were reduced to muffled squeaks against the dirty fingers that squeezed her mouth and cheeks painfully. Terrified, her rapid breaths noisily passed through her barely uncovered nose as she tried to ignore the pungent smell of the man who held her.

She blinked hard as another man calmly entered her sight, three more darkly dressed men right behind him. He looked down at her and smiled. His brown eyes, deep set in a round face, were framed by stringy dark hair and void of any warmth. She stared back at him, fighting to control her fear.

"My friend will remove his hand from your mouth, but if you scream or try to escape…"

Her eyes darted right as a long, shiny knife blade slowly entered her vision. Her breathing quickened even more.

"I will slit your throat," he finished. "Do you understand?"

Her rapid nods were jerky against the trembles that wracked her body.

He nodded once in acknowledgement. "Good."

The hand abruptly left her mouth and she pulled in several deep breaths. "Wh… what do you want?" she asked, unable to keep the wavering from her voice.

He looked away from her and examined the blade of his knife, turning it this way and that, the sharp edge catching the dim light of the alleyway. "The Lanteans," he said finally. "What did you tell them?"

She swallowed hard, trying to keep a neutral face. "I do not know what you are talking about. Who are the Lanteans?"

His eyes never left the blade. "Do not lie to me. I know exactly who you just talked to."

He finally made eye contact with her again, though she wished he hadn't. The deadly look in his eyes sent a new flood of dread through her.

"And so do you," he added as he slowly moved the knife towards her and pushed the tip carefully into her neck.

She could feel her own pulse beating rapidly against the blade. "I do not know anything," she whispered.

He held the knife steady. "You gave them the address you carried, yes?"

Her surprised eyes widened before she could stop herself, and in a moment, she knew that one slip had told him all he needed to know.

His smile grew bigger. "You did. I commend you, you guarded that address well… during your waking hours. It took us several nights while you slept, but we found it some time ago." He reached up and pushed a small tendril of hair back off her face, all the while holding the knife against her throat. "We could've left then, but my Master wants to know all who oppose him so they can be eliminated." His expression turned to one of excitement. "I expected another cell of human fighters, not Lanteans." An excited glint sparked in his eyes. "My Master will be very pleased with this information." He glanced around at his companions. "He will gift us all with strength and health."

Her eyes darted to the others, all showing the same eager expressions, and suddenly she knew whom she faced. She looked back at the leader. "You're worshippers."

His brows rose and his smile lingered. "Yes," he answered, "and you have done us a great service."

She felt the blade shift a split second before she felt it slice from one side her neck to the other, leaving a warm path behind it. Her vision abruptly darkened, all strength leaving her body as she struggled to breathe, to call out, to do something. They had to be warned… **He** had to be warned, but with a strangled gasp, she knew her efforts were futile. In her last moment, she knew she was falling, but she never felt herself hit the ground.

* * *

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, the first significant movement she'd made since John had started explaining why he'd insisted on an immediate debriefing the moment he came back through the gate. She glanced around the table at the rest of his team, their expressions all reflecting the conflict she felt. Her gaze settled back on John and she studied his face. His expression was intense, his eyes keen and calculating. But that strong front clashed with a note of hesitation and she took a bit of reassurance from it. At least they were on the same page.

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. "And you don't know who this woman was, or who she was talking about?" She knew the answer, but was more interested in starting a conversation in the deeply silent conference room.

"Not a clue," John answered quietly, "and she wasn't too interested in telling me either."

"That just can't be good," Rodney interjected. "What's she hiding?"

"Her caution is not necessarily evil, Rodney," Teyla said. "With the Wraith, Genii, and others in this galaxy, people must be cautious, especially if they are hiding."

"That makes her so much less suspicious." Rodney's voice was decidedly sarcastic.

Teyla looked at him. "Just because someone is hiding, does not automatically mean they have ill intent."

Elizabeth smiled slightly and dropped her head. Teyla had a knack that sometimes amazed her for putting perspective around situations.

"I don't really see what…" Rodney started, only to have Teyla interrupt him.

"We are hiding," she said in a patient tone.

"And unless you have a nefarious, galaxy conquering plan in the works, Brain, I'd say we're still the good guys around these parts," John added a look of sarcastic humor breaking up his stoic expression.

"Very funny, Pinky," Rodney shot back, glaring.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at the banter, but still felt compelled to refocus the discussion. "Okay, so we can't assume these people want to harm us."

"But it doesn't automatically mean this woman, or her… boss are good guys either," John shrugged and shook his head in frustration. "One thing's for sure, she was pretty adamant that we go meet this person." He dropped his head, staring at his folded hands, his voice turning quiet. "She said I'd never forgive myself, if I didn't." He looked up at Elizabeth. "I'm not sure how to take that," he admitted.

Elizabeth held his gaze, her lips tightening as she nodded just slightly in acknowledgement. John had a rational, tactical mind, but he also carried a lot of guilt for things he'd done or been forced to do, whether that guilt was warranted or not. This woman could've chosen any words to give weight to her plea, but the fact that she'd chosen those words clearly affected him.

Elizabeth sat forward and folded her hands on the table. "Let's look at what we do know," she firmed up the tone of her voice with a measure of confidence she wasn't sure she had. "This woman didn't just suspect who you were, she knew without a doubt. She was sent to find you by someone who possessed enough intel and knowledge to give detailed descriptions not only of our personnel in general, but your team specifically. That person also wanted to find you bad enough that he sent messengers out to planets across the galaxy, hoping to run into one of our teams. If he is hiding, that was a significant risk in itself and we can't discount that." She fell quiet and let her words sink in with everyone.

"To the vast majority of the galaxy, we are dead and Atlantis destroyed," Teyla ventured. "If there is someone out there with this information, then we must know who they are and what their intent is."

"Whoever they are," John looked at Elizabeth, "they could blow our entire cover." His eyes left her and scanned around the table at each of his team members, before coming back to her. "That raises the stakes pretty high."

She stared right back at him. "High enough to go to this planet without any other information?"

John absently rubbed his jaw, his gaze falling to the smooth surface of the conference table as he seemed to weigh their options.

"Better to know now, then have it hurt us later," Ronon finally spoke.

Elizabeth's gaze flicked to the big Satedan for just a moment before she looked back at John, just in time to see him nod to himself.

"Ronon's right. This could come back and bite us in the ass if we're not careful." He looked up at her, his gaze far from satisfied. "We need to go."

She stared back at him, her own conflicted feelings stealing her voice. She could override him, say no and not let him go, but she also knew and trusted her military commander. John wouldn't risk his team in such an unknown situation if he didn't firmly believe the circumstances warranted the risk, and in matters like this, she trusted his instincts. "Okay," she conceded, "Send a MALP first. If it all checks out, you have a go. Take a jumper and a team of Marines."

John nodded once. "Jumper yes, but not the Marines. Just my team. Better to keep the group small and mobile."

"Whatever you think is best," she pushed back from the table and stood. "Let's do this." Her back straight, once again portraying a confidence she didn't necessarily feel, Elizabeth led them from the conference room.

* * *

John never went through the Stargate without his guard up, at least a little. He'd learned that lesson early on. But this time, saying he had his guard up a just a little bit was like saying the Wraith were just a little bit nasty. As the jumper emerged from the wormhole on what they'd determined to be P94-771, he felt like he was perched on the edge of a knife. One false move and things would end very, very badly. There were so many unknowns about this situation that he couldn't even begin to guess what they'd find, and if there was one thing he hated, it was going on any mission without at least the basic facts. He looked over at Rodney in the co-pilot's seat. "Anything?"

Rodney shook his head, never looking up from the console. "Nothing the MALP didn't already report. From the looks of things, any people that lived here were wiped out."

John nodded absently, his eyes scanning the charred rubble around them, loosely resembling what must've been a city in its day, circling a large plaza where the gate stood. The weapon scars and patterns were familiar and left no doubt in his mind that the Wraith were responsible for the annihilation of whoever had lived here. "So I take it there're no life signs?"

"None. Nothing in the immediate vicinity, anyway." Rodney looked up and through the windshield for a moment, before staring at his console again and smiling. "Ah ha!"

"What?" John looked over at Rodney.

"I'm picking up an energy reading. Two miles out, on your three o'clock."

John adjusted the jumper's heading, aiming it at a huge, half destroyed building resembling a warehouse of some sort, distant but growing larger in the windshield. "Details?"

"If you mean life signs, still nothing. Other details…" Rodney's sigh was loud. "Not much. I can only read the power source, nothing else. Might be some interference; it's hard to say at this range."

John's gaze narrowed for a moment as he considered the situation. "Well, someone had to turn… whatever it is, on."

"But they may not be here anymore," Rodney countered.

"Maybe," John answered, "maybe not." He pushed the jumper into a descent. "We'll land a little ways away from it and go in on foot." Finding a relatively open spot about a mile from the power source, John eased the jumper to the ground. He swiveled his chair around and faced his team. "We go in quiet. Hand signals only and radio silence unless I give the word. Rodney, watch the Life Signs Detector. Two clicks if you detect something." He reached down and grabbed his P-90 from the floor next to his seat and stood. "I'm on point. Ronon take the six. Move out."

Striding purposefully to the back of the jumper, John tapped the hatch release and raised his gun as the ramp lowered. He scanned the empty landscape for a moment, before cautiously walking down the ramp, his team right behind him. Again, he paused, slowly sweeping his gun in a half circle, but was met with nothing but stillness and silence. He glanced at Rodney who looked up from his detector and shook his head. Curtly, John gestured forward with two fingers and started towards the building with the power source.

John focused on the task at hand, trying to tune out the destruction around him. The Wraith hadn't done a half-assed job at this city's destruction, but then again, they never did anything halfway. It was a trait that John begrudgingly admired, but it also made them that much more dangerous. Walking down the debris laden street, his boots crunched softly on the rubble, and at each cross street he paused to scan for any movement.

They were a couple hundred yards from the building when John felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He froze, looking back at Ronon who pointed first at his eyes, and then to their left, where he seemed to have seen something move. At the same time, John heard two clicks on his headset and he glanced at Rodney who, while never looking up from his detector, gestured the same direction Ronon had. John slowly turned left, but before he could make a proper assessment, movement erupted all around them. He tensed, pulling his P-90 tight to his shoulder and drawing a bead on the first man he saw. He felt Ronon turn back to back with him and heard the unmistakable sound of his gun powering up. Teyla and Rodney closed ranks quickly, and the four of them formed a back to back circle as they were quickly surrounded by several, armed men.

The men surrounding his team were raggedly dressed, their physical features and clothing resembling several races across the galaxy. Each of them sported short, rough beards and carried a wide variety of guns, but they held those weapons with confidence and competence. In an instant, John knew they didn't face rank amateurs, but trained, veteran fighters and dangerous men. He took a deep breath, determined to try to diffuse the situation before it got out of control. "Okay," he said calmly, "easy now. We don't want to hurt anyone. We were asked to come here."

One man, a tall, imposing figure, with a stout rifle resembling a shotgun, stepped forward. "By who?" He shook his head, tossing shoulder length blond hair off his face.

John exhaled quietly. "I don't know. We met some woman off world who gave us this address and said someone here needed to talk to us. So, we're here." He cocked his head just a little. "You don't happen to know anything about that, do you?"

The man smiled just a little. "Surrender your weapons and we will take you to who wants to see you."

John returned a cynical half-smile. "Not a chance." His smile faded. "How about we both lower our guns, we'll hang on to ours, and you take us to this guy?"

The man chuckled quietly. "You're outnumbered, Colonel. We could just do this by force."

John stiffened a little, but hid his surprise at being recognized. "No one needs to get hurt here, but we **will** open fire if you make any moves towards us. Now, I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, but my team is **not** giving up our weapons."

The man's smile returned and he seemed to relax just a little. "He said this would happen." The man waved his hand at his men and they all immediately lowered their guns. "We're not going to hurt you, Colonel."

John stared hard at him for a long moment, as he gauged the man's sincerity. His team was outnumbered, but probably still held the upper hand in terms of firepower. At the very least, they'd put up a good fight. This guy seemed convinced that John's team wouldn't fire on them unless they didn't have a choice, and he had enough confidence in that knowledge to back down first. Coming to a decision, John carefully lowered his weapon. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Teyla and Rodney do the same.

"Sheppard," Ronon's voice was guarded.

"Holster it," John replied confidently, knowing that Ronon would comply, whether he agreed or not… and he probably didn't.

John refocused his attention on the leader. "Okay. Now that we have a mutual understanding, why don't you take us to this guy, so we can solve the big mystery?"

The leader smoothly slung his rifle over his back and into some sort of gun sheath. He turned, waving for them to follow as he walked down a wide road towards another distant, but large, warehouse.

John glanced at each member of his team just briefly. "Play along," he said quietly, "but stay sharp." He took the lead, following behind as his team flanked him, and the rest of the strange men fell in behind them.

"Hello? That's not where the energy source is." Rodney's voice was confused.

"It is not," the leader answered, without looking back.

"Then where are we going?" Rodney's confused voice turned annoyed. "That place is at least a mile away."

The leader stopped, pivoted and stared at Rodney. "Do you wish to meet Him or see the energy source?"

"Well…." Rodney started.

"Meet your mysterious leader," John cut in, silencing Rodney.

The leader smiled. "I thought so." He turned and continued towards the distant warehouse.

Their path turned from one street to another, never seeming to move directly towards their destination. At first, it was a curiosity to John, but as they made their third turn down yet another street, he couldn't keep quiet about it. "Not taking a direct route, are we?" He could hear the leader chuckle as they continued walking.

"No. The destruction of this city by the Wraith was extensive. Many of the streets are blocked. It's one of the reasons we use that building as our base. On the ground, it doesn't have easy access."

John nodded to himself. First they're effectively surrounded by well armed, well trained men and now they're being taken to a tactically sound base of operations. Whoever this mysterious person was, he was an effective leader and well trained himself. John stored that bit of information away in the back of his head. Hopefully they wouldn't have to face this guy in a fight.

As they reached the building, the leader stopped in front of a large, sturdy metal door and pushed hard. The door creaked as it swung inwards. Beyond, a huge, mostly empty room was dimly lit by strategically placed torches and fire pits, most at the heads of narrow hallways that branched off in different directions.

John kept his gun lowered, but tightened his grip as he cautiously entered the building. Once they were all inside, the leader held up his hand.

"Wait here." He turned and walked down a hallway just to their left, his men following, leaving John and his team alone.

"This is **not** normal!" Rodney's hushed voice was still emphatic.

"No, it's not," John said, "but we don't have a lot of choices right now. We're just going to have to stay on our guard until we know what's going on."

"No reason to be on guard, Sheppard."

John spun around, pinpointing the new voice from the shadows of a long hallway. He could just make out the silhouette of a person standing unassumingly, just outside the light. The voice sounded familiar, but with a deepness that disguised it just enough that John couldn't place it. He fought his instincts and kept his gun lowered. "Well, that's good," he answered neutrally, "but I'd feel better if you'd come out here and tell us who you are and what you want."

His gaze narrowed as the figure slowly moved into the light and suddenly, John felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. Stunned, he was speechless as he stared at the man's face, unmistakably illuminated in the flickering light. Standing before him was someone he thought he'd never see again; a face that had haunted him, the living embodiment of a supposed ending he'd never been able to reconcile with himself.

"Oh my God," Rodney whispered.

The man smiled with a big toothy grin that was so familiar, even through a scraggly beard. "Good to see you too, McKay."

John swallowed hard, finding his voice. "Ford."

Ford looked at him and held onto his smile. "Yes, sir."

So many things raced through John's head that he was again momentarily speechless, before one question came to dominance in his mind. "I thought you were dead. How did you escape?"

"That wasn't easy. Luckily, I spotted two Wraith leaving the hive on a shuttle. I stowed away." Ford's smile faded. "I tried to radio you so we could regroup, but you didn't answer." Anger swiftly replaced the happiness on his face. "You were gone! You left me behind!"

"Whoa!" John held up his hand. "You left me first, remember? Told me you had our six? That you'd catch up? I tried to radio you too, Lieutenant, but you didn't answer. We had no choice but to get off that hive."

A twitch ran up the side of Ford's face and his whole head jerked just slightly to the left. As quickly as it appeared, the anger on his face disappeared. "Well," he answered calmly, "I got away. Killed the Wraith and got some more enzyme." He smiled broadly.

John pursed his lips. "You're still on it?"

"Hell yeah!" Ford answered jubilantly, "I wouldn't have survived without it. Had to set my own broken arm, but that was no problem once I had a good dose in me." He waved at the men who had followed him into the room, including the leader who'd brought them there, whom he clapped hard on the shoulder. "We're all on it."

John glanced around, noting the smiles and nods from the other men.

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better," Rodney answered sarcastically.

"Just because you couldn't handle it, doesn't mean that better men than you, like Derg here, can't," Ford replied.

"Better men?" Rodney took a step forward. "I took the enzyme and beat up four of your so-called 'better men' to escape last time. Don't talk to me about who's better!"

"Okay, okay!" John raised his hand. "Knock it off, both of you." He sent a warning glare at Rodney.

"Just like old times, huh, Sheppard?" Ford said, unfazed by Rodney's outburst.

John knew his smile was cynical, but he really didn't care. "Not exactly." His smile faded. "Why did you call us here? You sent people all over the galaxy looking for us; it must be important. So, here we are. What's up?"

Ford shrugged. "I don't have any intel for you, boss," he answered. "I just wanted to find you so we could prove ourselves to you and Weir and Atlantis. Ever since I escaped the hive, I've been recruiting another team to work with me, take the enzyme, and learn to be soldiers, so we could all work together to stop the Wraith."

John took a deep breath to quell his frustration, a skill he'd honed the last time he and Ford had crossed paths. He couldn't be mad at Ford, who was clearly under the influence of the enzyme. He'd worked closely with the lieutenant for a year when they'd first arrived in Atlantis. The kid had a sound mind and was a good soldier. He just had to get off that damned enzyme. "We've been through this, Lieutenant," John answered neutrally. "You don't have anything to prove. Come back to Atlantis. Let us help you and your men get off the enzyme and back to normal. You'll be fine." He took a step forward. "You can see your grandparents and your cousin again," he added quietly. "Let's make this right, okay?"

Ford's eyebrows furrowed and what could only be called a tragic expression settled on his face. "No, I… I can't I… the enzyme. It's incredible." He turned away and rubbed his brow. "I miss them," he whispered.

John stared at the tension in Ford's back, took another step toward him, and slowly reached out. "They miss you too, buddy," he said softly.

"We all do," Teyla added in a gentle voice.

John slowly squeezed Ford's shoulder. "C'mon, Lieutenant."

Ford shook his head violently. "No I… I can't! I have to prove myself first!" He pulled free from John's grasp and quickly strode away, making a beeline for the adjacent hallway. He waved over his shoulder at his men. "Make sure they're comfortable!"

"Ford!" John started forward, only to be halted by Derg.

"Aiden!" Teyla called, but without another word, Ford disappeared down the hallway and into the darkness.

* * *

The controls spoke to him, the harmonious synergy flowing through his body and mind. His connection with the ship was deep and strong, but he knew his control paled in comparison to the unparalleled bond She'd once had. An unquestionable rule and dominance he could never hope to attain.

He pushed away the negativity, refusing to let it permeate the ship's functions. They'd searched long and far, looking for those who had taken Her from them, killed Her, destroyed Her hive and had left him and all who followed him without a queen.

He'd been Her Consort, Her mate for many of the humans' fleeting and pitiful lifetimes, and still they had taken all of that from him and from his brothers. His mind was cold and lonely, void of the comforting presence he'd come to rely on. All of his brothers felt the same. To live without a Queen to rule, comfort, and strengthen them with Her connection was to live half a life. It'd been almost more than he could bear, and in defense of his mind and spirit, he'd filled that void with hate, revenge and now a sense of satisfaction. It'd been humans that had stolen his Queen and it was humans that had brought him and his brothers a chance for revenge. So many humans hated them, but the few that worshipped them had found these murderers, these odd humans with strength and endurance that rivaled even theirs. He was unaccustomed to humans challenging him physically, but these were different. They needed to be destroyed.

A sneering smile touched his face and he hissed quietly in anticipation of the upcoming fight. More than just these odd humans, now he could take his revenge on Lanteans too, a revenge he thought he'd never have when they'd destroyed their city. The Wraith had heard rumors of survivors from Atlantis, but did not consider them a threat. Their city was gone and with it the technology that had given them a fighting chance. To capture them would be to possibly find a way to a new, rich feeding ground, but they had never thought these survivors would threaten the Wraith supremacy. They had misjudged these Lanteans, but would not again. If they had the power and ability to destroy two hives and kill two Queens, they must not be allowed to endure.

His grip tightened on the controls and he felt the ship respond to his urgent thoughts, his desire for revenge. There would be no easy attack from orbit. This was their Queen they were avenging. He and his brothers would look the offenders in the eyes as they took their lives, slowly, painfully, imparting as much agony on the humans as they'd endured with the loss of Her. Revenge would be two fold and a worthy atonement for their Queen.

Yes, he nodded to himself, the humans would die, even if he and every one of his brothers on the hive had to die to achieve that goal. There was no choice and there was no other outcome they could accept.

He urged the hive for more speed. That moment of pain and fear for the humans and reparation for him could not come fast enough.

* * *

"Well, what now?"

John pondered Rodney's question as he watched the door slowly close. Ford's men had left his team in a large, well lit room. He gave it a good ten count before he reached out and grabbed the door handle, which turned willingly. "We're not locked in," he commented as he let go, leaving the door shut.

"Oh, well that's comforting," Rodney answered.

"We are not prisoners then." Teyla walked up next to John. "Aiden trusts us not to leave."

John nodded and drew in a deep breath. His brows quirked. "We wait then." He casually walked over to one of several chairs scattered around the room. A table stood in the corner, with a selection of fruits as well as a pitcher of water and mugs. "Ford will be back. He just needs some time." He eased into a chair and looked up at Rodney, standing cross-armed in the middle of the room.

"Fine," Rodney answered, "we wait. But in case you haven't noticed, Ford doesn't seem all that inclined to come back to Atlantis with us."

John set his P-90 on the floor before resting both elbows on his knees. He stared at the floor for a moment, before peering back up at Rodney. "Then we have to change his mind."

Rodney sighed loudly. "That's been tried, Colonel. I spent an entire day chasing him around the woods, trying to convince him to come back, and yet," Rodney spread his arms wide, "here we are!" He dropped his hands, emphatically slapping them against his thighs.

John frowned at him. "Bad example, Rodney. Your interpersonal skills suck."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "That's not the point! Ford isn't in his right mind. He's not…."

"McKay!" John sharply interrupted, silencing the doctor. He took a deep breath, steeling his voice with the unquestioning resolve he felt deep in his gut, reinforced by the memory of a ghost he thought he'd be carrying for the rest of his life. He lowered his voice. "I am **not** leaving without him." John's intense gaze bore into Rodney. "Not this time."

The anger dissolved from Rodney's face and he relaxed just a little. "Right." He said quietly, "Changing Ford's mind it is, then."

"It will be difficult to do," Teyla added as she sat down next to John.

John nodded. "I know." He looked up at Ronon, who was silently leaning against the wall, one foot braced behind him and arms crossed over his chest. "If it comes to it, you may have to stun him, big guy. I'd prefer it if he came willingly, but if we have to take him forcibly and fight our way out of here, then we'll do it. Either way, he's coming back with us."

Ronon patted his gun a couple times. "Just give the word."

John nodded in return. He leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out and crossed them. "Like I said, we wait."

* * *

John began to question his own orders as their wait dragged on into a second hour. But, question as he might, he still didn't see any alternative besides leaving, and that wasn't something he was prepared to do. He stood and paced across the room. Leaving Ford behind on the hive had gone against everything he'd believed in, but at the time he'd also had no alternative. In spite of everything that'd happened, Ford was still a member of his team and his safety was John's responsibility. But Teyla and Ronon were teammates too, and the same responsibility applied to them. John drew in a deep breath. Rescuing Teyla and Ronon and getting them all to safety had been the right choice. He knew it then and he knew it now. But he'd never, ever accepted it. John's mind replayed the moment when that decision had become crystal clear, just as he had countless times before….

_John leapt into the cockpit of the dart, slapping the controls activating the shield over his head. He'd had an interface before to translate his commands to the alien technology, but it hadn't meant that the pilot in him hadn't paid attention. Now, that diligence was paying off. He smacked his headset, activating his radio. "Ford, this is Sheppard, do you read?" He pursed his lips at the silence and tried again. "Ford, respond!" He shook his head. "Ford, this is Sheppard. Do you copy?" He let the silence linger for another moment, before he grabbed the dart controls. For just a moment, he closed his eyes against the decision he had to make. Ronon and Teyla were waiting for him with no other way to get off this hive. Ford was alive… maybe, but he had no idea where to look, even if he had the time. John opened his eyes and steeled his resolve, making the only decision he could. Silently, he piloted the dart off the hanger deck…._

Turning away from the wall he'd inadvertently been staring at, he met gazes with Teyla who sat quietly. Her expression was intuitive as she stood and walked over to him.

"What is it?" she asked.

John looked down for a moment, pushing aside the emotion that had surfaced from within. "Just thinking about the hive… and leaving Ford behind."

"You had no choice, John," Teyla insisted, though her voice was gentle. "Aiden knows that, even if he does not admit it right now."

John's lips tightened reflexively. ""I know. But that doesn't make it right."

Teyla shook her head just a little. "There was nothing right about that mission."

"No," he admitted. "There wasn't."

She smiled slightly. "We will save Aiden this time, John."

One side of John's mouth lifted and he nodded. "Yes, we will." His smile faded and his attention was drawn to the door, which opened with a grating squeal. Ford stood quietly in the doorway, his expression mostly neutral though a bit of sadness found its way into his eyes. He eyed them hesitantly.

Teyla reacted first. "Aiden." She quickly crossed the room, placed her hands on his arms and bowed her head in a traditional Athosian greeting.

Ford looked down at her head for a moment, boyish admiration replacing the stoic expression on his face. He grinned just a little and touched heads with her.

After a moment, Teyla lifted her chin. "It is good to see you safe."

"You too," he said quietly. His hand still on Teyla's arm, Ford's smile faded as he regarded John. "Sir, the hive, the mission, I…." His voice trailed off and he looked away.

"Don't," John's voice was low but insistant. He put on the best reassuring expression he could. "Let's just take it from here, okay? Leave the past where it is." He held gazes with his lieutenant for a long moment, before Ford finally nodded.

"You should see what we've been up to then," Ford answered. Apparently confident the team would follow him, he turned and walked out the doorway without looking back. "Come on," his voice echoed from the hallway..

John sighed quietly, grabbed his P-90 and started after Ford, his team right behind him. The last time Ford had done something like this, they'd wound up fighting for their lives for an impossible mission on a hive ship. John had meant what he'd said. He was willing to just go forward from here. Every time he thought of leaving Ford behind, it tied him in knots, and that, along with the indecision that came with it, was something he couldn't afford. And then there was the disaster on the hive ship. Dredging that up wouldn't accomplish anything. In fact, it'd probably be counterproductive, but that didn't mean he wasn't wary. Ford without the enzyme was a level-headed, competent, and outstanding officer, the kind of guy you always wanted on your six in a firefight. Ford on the enzyme was irrational, unpredictable and unreliable at best. John just hoped Ford didn't have another impossible mission planned this time. He quelled his frustration. If they could just get him back to Atlantis, and weaned off that damned enzyme, the kid stood a chance. If they failed, there was only one ending in Ford's future, and it wasn't one John was willing to politely accept.

"I don't like this," Rodney muttered as he caught up with John.

John shrugged. "Me either, but I'm still content to just play along."

"Really?" Rodney snapped. "And exactly how long are we going to **play along** with all of this? Last time that didn't work out so well."

John frowned. "We play along, until it's not a good idea anymore."

"Reassuring," Rodney muttered.

John refrained from commenting further as Ford led them down a twisting hallway and into another large room. Here, sparring dummies hung from the ceiling, and a variety weapons, ranging from knives and swords to something resembling Bantos Rods, and even a couple types of guns, were arranged in neat rows on several large tables.

On the other side of the room, three men were sparring on thick mats. Each had long, stout staffs which they held with solid confidence.

John ran his hand over the guns. Most resembled Genii style handguns, with a few shotguns like Derg carried mixed in. From what he could tell, each weapon was well maintained and in good, serviceable condition. He glanced at Ford who sauntered up next to him.

"We take care of the guns," Ford commented. "We don't have a lot of them and ammo's hard to come by sometimes. That's why we have the other weapons and," he waved behind him, "it's why we spend a lot of time sparring." Ford turned to watch the sparring match and John followed his lead.

Facing off against each other, two men seemed to pair up against the third, who repelled both of them with more ease than John thought should be possible. One well placed shot to the temple took down one of the fighters and the man spun, delivering a blow to the gut of the second, who collapsed, gripping his midsection. The single combatant stepped back and twirled his staff over his head, before bringing it to rest at his side. The two injured fighters slowly pushed themselves up from the mat.

John glanced at Ronon, who stepped up to join them. "Pretty impressive."

Ronon nodded. "Yeah. They're good."

"You were that way when you were on the enzyme," Ford interjected. "I don't think you could take them now, though."

John could feel the tension from Ronon as he peered around John to glare at Ford.

"Want to test that?" Ronon's voice was low and dangerous.

Ford seemed unfazed. "Wouldn't be good for you." He met strong gazes with Ronon. "You should've stayed on the enzyme." He looked past Ronon and at Teyla, who walked up with Rodney right behind her. "Teyla too. You guys were unstoppable. Best fighters I had. But without the enzyme…" His voice trailed off and he shrugged indifferently.

John instinctively reached up, planting a firm hand on Ronon's chest as he moved menacingly towards Ford. "Okay, alright. Let's just agree to disagree here, okay?" He gave Ronon a hard commanding look, before giving Ford a warning one.

Ford's look darkened as he stared coldly back. "You don't agree with me."

John looked evenly back at him. Ford's statement wasn't a question. He exhaled. Lying would get them nowhere. "No, I don't."

Ford's chortle was distinctly cynical and he looked away. "I thought you said I had nothing to prove to you, Sheppard." He stared back at John. "But you still don't trust me."

John closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath. "Trust you?" He opened his eyes and poured as much sincerity into his expression as he could. "I trusted you on my six more times than I can count, Lieutenant." He said quietly. "And you saved my life, more than once. Trust has never been the issue."

"Really?" Ford held onto his air of disbelief. "Could've fooled me."

John's gaze narrowed, and he repeated what he felt like he'd said a hundred times before, hoping that maybe this time he could get through. "The enzyme is messing with your head, buddy. As long as you're on it, you're not thinking straight." He took a step closer to Ford. "All I want to do," he paused, "is help you."

The cynicism dropped from Ford's face and conflict replaced it. His expression turned vulnerable and he chuckled quietly. "Remember the natives on P56-98…98…981?"

John's mind raced as he tried to place the memory.

"The tribal natives of Seeba," Teyla supplied. "Yes."

John tossed her a grateful look as the memories came flooding back. "I remember." His attention turned back to Ford. "You shot one when he tried to put an arrow in my back." John smiled a little. "You saved my life."

"Gladly," Ford whispered. A twitch ran up his cheek and the conflict in his face deepened. He abruptly stepped back and dropped his head to stare at the ground. "I know… I know I… I have to earn that place back."

John's brows furrowed in confusion. "Earn what place back?"

Ford kept his head lowered and his shoulders rounded in resignation. "On your team," he whispered. He looked up, past John and right at Ronon. "You replaced me."

John's eyes slid shut as suddenly everything made sense. How could he convince a clearly altered Ford that he didn't have to prove anything, when every time Ford saw Ronon, he saw his replacement? "Buddy, I…" He shook his head and opened his eyes. "We thought you were dead."

As quickly as it appeared, the innocence fled from Ford's face, replaced by a steeled determination. "Well, I wasn't." The twitch returned to his cheek, and this time his entire head jerked slightly as a mask of anger crossed with madness veiled his face. "But you still left me behind." He spun away, hastily striding towards the exiting hallway.

"Ford!" John called, but the lieutenant didn't even break stride. He thought for a moment of going after him, but dismissed the idea. Experience had proven that Ford's moods swung wildly and on this end of the swing, there was no reasoning with him.

"Again?" Rodney lamented. "How can we convince him of anything if he keeps running away?"

"He is confused, Rodney," Teyla answered.

"I know that!" Rodney snapped before sighing. "I… yeah," his voice was subdued and void of the typical sarcasm. "I know."

"Sheppard," Ronon started.

"Don't." John cut him off. He looked at the Satedan. "This isn't your fault." He looked back at the now empty hallway. "It's mine."

"John, you should not blame yourself for any of this," Teyla reasoned softly.

John kept staring at the hallway, trying to process his own thoughts and the emotions he hated facing. "Maybe not," he admitted equally as quietly, "but I do." His gaze narrowed as Derg appeared from the shadows of the hallway and walked into the room. He made a beeline for John.

"The Lieutenant asked me to take you back to your room," Derg nodded at each of them. "He'll talk to you later."

John glanced at each of his teammates and shrugged. "Sure, okay." Leading his team, he followed Derg down the hallway.

* * *

He pulled his hands from the controls and curled his fingers into fists, hissing quietly. At last, they'd arrived. The planet below had been destroyed long ago, its inhabitants killed or fed upon. No hive had been there for decades. He hissed again. The perfect hiding place. The humans were more ingenious than he'd believed. All the more reason to destroy them.

He turned, fixing his gaze on a small group of human men standing mute, their heads bowed. "They are on this planet?"

"Yes, Master," the leader responded. "This was the address on the woman's parchment. The rogue humans and the Lanteans are here."

"Excellent," he said.

"Will you fire upon them, Master?" another human asked.

"No," he answered. He turned back and stared at the display of the planet. "They killed a Queen. For that, we will look into their eyes as they die."

"I ask for the honor for my men and myself to help destroy them, Master." The human leader immediately spoke.

He looked appraisingly at the group of worshippers. Their loyalty was not in question, but their strength, especially compared to his drones, was. Still, they could be of use, as long as the ultimate revenge and satisfaction was for him and his brothers. "Very well," he agreed. "My Second will command you on the surface. If you engage them, you are not to kill the leaders. They are to be brought before me. Do with the others as you wish, but bring me the leaders."

"Yes, Master," the leader answered. "Their leaders will be captured, even if we must die to do so. Your command is ours."

He smiled, just a little. "Very good. Go." He waved his hand and watched as each of the humans bowed low and hastily departed.

He turned, again looking at the screen as his Second walked up next to him. As expected, the Second's voice entered his head.

"_I will take four companies of drones and all fit males. We will avenge ourselves upon them." _

He nodded, holding the sneering smile present on his face. _"Yes, good. But I will look into the eyes of the leaders before they die."_ He looked over at his Second, his smile fading. _"That is my order."_

The Second bowed his head deeply. _"Yes, Consort."_ He turned and hastily left.

He looked at the planet again. _"Soon," _he sent his thought to every Wraith on the hive. _"Soon."_

* * *

John rubbed his eyes vigorously before he grabbed a cup and poured some water from the waiting carafe. He sipped a little before he downed the cup in one take. He pursed his lips, his thoughts dwelling on Ford and the revelation he couldn't believe he hadn't seen before. His guilt redoubled in spite of his rational mind, who agreed with Teyla.

_It's not your fault._

John set the cup down and turned away from the table, even as he subconsciously turned away from that one simple thought. He couldn't let himself dwell on this, beat himself up over decisions that were made. Decisions that were right at the time, and even in retrospect, were right regardless. Still, in the face of all of the rational, clinical facts, the tragic look on Ford's face was burned into his memory.

"John," Teyla's quiet voice broke his thoughts.

He didn't turn and look at her, but raised his hand. "Don't Teyla. I know what you're going to say and I know you're right." He lowered his hand and, after a long moment, looked right as Teyla eased up next to him.

"Then I will not say it again," she said with a small rueful smile as she looked down at her TAC vest and brushed a hand over the front. "But should you have difficulty convincing yourself, I will be more than happy to tell you once more, or to listen if you needed to talk." She adjusted the vest zipper and brushed back a wisp of hair that had escaped her ponytail, before she looked up at him, her rueful smile turning to a warm one.

In spite of his mood, John couldn't help but smile in return. He shook his head a little and arched his brows in dark amusement. "Thanks," he answered.

His smile faded as the sounds of distant shouting, audible even through the closed door, snatched his attention. His brows furrowed as he stepped around Teyla, clutched his P-90 and strode to the door, Ronon right beside him. He rested his hand on the door and leaned in close to it, listening. He couldn't make out words, but definitely heard shouting in the distance.

"That can't be good," Rodney walked up behind him. "What's going on?"

John shook his head. "I can't tell what they're saying, but something's definitely up." He grabbed the door handle and nodded to Ronon, who took one step to the right and pulled his gun, ready to cover whatever might be on the other side. Carefully, John turned the knob and opened it, lifting his own gun at the same time Teyla did, but all they saw was an empty, dim corridor. Cautiously, he walked out of the room and into the hallway, with his team only a step behind him. They'd only gone a dozen or so feet before the distant rumble of an explosion echoed around them.

"What the hell was that?" Rodney whispered emphatically.

"An attack?" Ronon asked.

John scowled. "Sounds like it." He sighed deeply. "I got a really bad feeling about all of this. We gotta find Ford." He started forward again, heading for the central area of the warehouse. Turning a few more corners, they finally came to the main antechamber. John lowered his gun just a bit at the sight of Ford, Derg and five other men. "Ford," John strode purposefully towards the lieutenant, "what the hell is going on?"

Ford turned and glared at John, his expression seething mad. "The Wraith found us!"

John's eyes widened. "Wraith? Where?"

"Coming this way, thanks to you!" Ford shot back. "They're coming after us!"

John pushed back his irritation. "Hold on. What do you mean, thanks to us?"

"They spotted the jumper you left parked in the broad daylight for anyone to see! Now they know we're here!"

"Why did they come to this planet in the first place?" Rodney interrupted. "What reason would they have?"

"You!" Ford shouted. "They came because of you!"

"Wait just a damn minute," John shot back. "You're the one that called us here! We didn't tell anyone outside of the senior staff on Atlantis what was happening or where we were going!" He paused a moment and took a deep breath. "Rodney's right, what brought them here in the first place? Jumper or no jumper, they had to have a reason to be in orbit."

Ford waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. We have to get out of here."

John looked around. The building, while it still had four walls and a roof, was in bad shape. Stress showed on the girders and the walls were crumbling in places. It'd never stand up to weapons fire of any kind, much less what the hive could unleash on them. As much as he hated to get caught out in the open, this building and the remains of all the others he'd seen, weren't a good alternative. "Agreed. How many men do you have? We might all be able to fit in the jumper…."

"No," Ford answered. "The Wraith destroyed it."

"The explosion," Rodney muttered. "We are so screwed."

John's mind raced. Without the jumper it was about a two mile hike back to the gate, and there were Wraith to consider. He scratched the back of his head and paced. If they didn't just blow everything up from orbit, they'd be on the ground and it'd be a fight the whole way to the gate. He turned to Ford. "Do your men have eyes on them? Are the Wraith on the ground?"

Ford nodded. "Yes, sir. Coming this way. I sent skirmish teams out to slow them down, but we have to go."

"Why do they not just destroy everything from orbit?" Teyla asked.

Ford shrugged. "Don't know. But after they blew up the jumper, the hive hasn't fired another shot. That's when they started appearing on the ground."

"Whatever the reason," John said, "they're coming after us on foot, and our only way out is on foot too." He looked at Ford. "How many men do you have?"

"Twenty three," Ford answered immediately. "Everyone, except who you see here, are out in skirmish teams. Their orders are to hound the Wraith and then get to the gate."

"Okay," John inhaled deeply. "We're going to have to make our way to the gate on foot and the sooner we leave, the better." His gaze lingered on Ford for a second, before he looked at his team. "We'll try to stay together, but if we get separated for any reason, we'll meet at the gate."

"Before that…." Ford walked over to a small cabinet situated just inside one of the hallways and pulled out several vials of red liquid, along with a couple syringes. He waved his men over.

"Enzyme," Rodney muttered.

"John," Teyla stepped up next to him, her gaze following his to Ford's team. "They do not think right while on the enzyme. Should we let them take it?"

John's gaze narrowed. He expected Teyla to be pretty sensitive to using the enzyme; she'd had firsthand experience with it, as had Ronon, but he seemed to hide his feelings about it better. John couldn't deny the array of negative side effects from the drug, but at the same time, now wasn't exactly the time to go down that road. "We need them strong to pull this off. They're already hooked anyway." He looked down at her. "We can't do anything about it right now. We'll deal with it after we're off this planet."

Teyla's conflicted expression turned resigned and she nodded quietly before turning away.

John watched silently, as Ford and each of his men injected themselves before they all walked back. Without any comment to them, John again looked at each of his team members. "How are you for ammo?"

Ronon twirled his gun expertly. "Fully charged."

"Extra clip for my P-90," Teyla replied, "as well as for my sidearm."

Rodney pointed briefly at Teyla. "What she said."

John flipped the safety off on his P-90. "Same here." He looked at Ford. "Armed?"

"All of us," Ford answered.

"Okay," John reached in his TAC vest pocket and pulled out an extra radio. "Take this." He gave it to Ford and then turned towards the door. "Move out."

"No!" Ford answered, stopping everyone in their tracks.

John looked back, his brows quirking at the twitch in Ford's face. "What?"

"I'm in charge here," Ford shot back, pocketing the radio. "No one does anything until I give the order."

John's lips tightened in irritation and he bit back a snap response. Fighting with an enzyme-hyped Ford was an exercise in futility, but they were heading into an inevitable firefight. A clear line of command had to be established. He drew in a measured breath. "Not the last time I checked, **Lieutenant.**"

"This is **my **op." Ford's voice was undeterred. "My base, my rules."

John hardened his gaze, adding a note of command to his voice. "This is **my** team," he responded. "Including you."

He watched as the anger dissolved from Ford's expression and for a moment, he looked like the carefree kid that had cracked jokes and kept them all smiling their first year in Pegasus, even when they didn't want to. All he needed was a smile, but that was far from his expression. John fought to hold onto his stern expression, when sympathy and regret flowed through him at the almost innocent quality in the young man's face.

"Yes, sir," Ford answered quietly, his demeanor completely different. "Sorry, sir."

John softened his expression just a little, though he still held onto his position of command. "Apology accepted, Lieutenant." The unpredictability of Ford's reactions was the biggest concern he had in this entire situation. The Wraith would do what they do, and after almost two years, he could pretty accurately predict their actions, but the enzyme made Ford unpredictable. It was that uncertainty that could get them all killed. "Move out," he repeated, and headed towards the door. The best he could do was hope this little lesson in command stuck, at least until they escaped the planet.

* * *

"Clear!" John shouted as his eyes scanned over the motionless bodies of six Wraith, five drones and one male. He looked back at his team and Ford's men. "Everyone okay?"

"We're good," Ronon answered.

John looked at Ford, who nodded. "Okay, let's go." He started down the street again, scanning back and forth in a methodical fashion, alert for any sort of attack. Next to him, Teyla did the same.

"They seem to be more intent on getting close to us than stunning or killing everyone from a distance," she said quietly.

John nodded, his attention never diverting from their surroundings. "Noticed that. Any idea why?"

"No," Teyla answered. "I have never seen Wraith behave this way before. The closer they are to us, the more risk they take of injury or death. I do not see why they are doing this."

Movement out of the corner of his eye immediately caught John's attention. He spun left. "Watch out!" Pushing Teyla ahead of him, he dove for cover as gunfire erupted around them. From behind a large chunk of rubble, John crouched and glanced at Teyla. "Gunfire, not stunners. Those aren't Wraith." His radio headset clicked.

"_Who the hell is that?"_ Rodney demanded loudly. _"As if we didn't have our hands full enough with the Wraith!" _

John tapped his headset. "No idea. Was too busy trying not to get shot to take a closer look. Anyone got eyes on the enemy?"

"_Nope,"_ Ronon answered. _"Can't see them." _

"_I got 'em, boss,"_ Ford interjected. _"Derg and my guys are gonna flank 'em."_

"How many of them are there?" John asked.

"_Don't know for sure,"_ Ford said.

Concern welled up in John. "Ford, call your men back until we know how many we're facing. They could get in over their heads."

"_No way,"_ Ford's voice was confident and slightly angry. _"They can handle it, Sheppard, no matter how many bad guys are out there." _

John grit his teeth in frustration. They needed every skilled fighter they could get to even make it to the gate. Ford's use of his men was reckless. "Ford," he tried to keep his voice calm. "Call them back. That's an order." He glanced at Teyla as the silence lingered, punctuated by an occasional gunshot as the enemy tried to get his team to return fire. "Ford?" he prompted. "Ford, respond!"

John risked a glance over the top of the rubble and then ducked as rapid gunfire suddenly started, but it wasn't aimed at them. He again peeked over the rubble and lifted his P-90, looking for a target, but couldn't find one. Almost as soon as it started, the gunfire ceased and Derg appeared from behind more rubble about a hundred yards down the street.

Derg waved. "All clear!"

John slowly stood, looking around as Ford trotted over to him.

"See?" Ford answered. "No problem. You need to trust me and my men, Sheppard."

John glanced at Ford but said nothing. They'd gotten lucky this time, but he knew he had no chance of convincing Ford of that. Lifting his gun, he started down the street towards Derg's position. "Come on."

"Report," Ford ordered as they approached Derg.

John looked around, spying six dead fighters. His eyes widened slightly at the motionless forms of two of Ford's men. He looked back at Ford and Derg.

Derg jerked his head towards his fallen comrades. "We lost Beck and Eron."

"I wouldn't exactly call this a success, Lieutenant," John's voice was hard. He hated losing men, and in this case, any diminishment in their already small number could spell disaster. "You should've waited for my order."

Ford stared back at him before waving at the dead ambushers. "They're dead, aren't they? Isn't that the point?"

"Yes," John answered, "but so is keeping your men alive. You used to know that, Lieutenant." He held onto his stern expression, locking eyes with Ford, whose expression matched his.

"Not all of them are dead," Derg interjected.

John held Ford's gaze for one more moment before looking at Derg, who dragged one of the attackers to his feet only briefly before he shoved the man to his knees in front of John and Ford.

John looked at Ronon and nodded once. The big Satedan grabbed the shoulders of their prisoner, helping Derg restrain him.

John stared at their prisoner. Blood flowed freely from a wound in his side, but his expression was far from cowed as he glared defiantly back. John let his P-90 hang from his vest and smoothly pulled his .45. He walked up to the prisoner and pressed the barrel into his forehead. "Who are you?"

"My Master protects me, Lantean. I will tell you nothing," the prisoner spat back.

Teyla stepped up next to John. "Who is your master?"

The prisoner shifted his glare to her. "Those who are all powerful. They heal us, protect us, and we gladly serve them."

"The Wraith," Teyla said, but he only smiled in return.

"You're a worshipper," Rodney added.

The prisoner looked right at him. "Yes. Gladly so."

John clenched his teeth and resisted pulling the trigger. "How did you know we were here?"

The prisoner considered him for a moment, before looking at Ford. "Your spies are too easy to spot. The woman, she resisted, but in the end we learned what we needed. My Master wants you dead." He looked back at John. "Your presence was a welcomed surprise. He wants you dead too. As do I." His gaze narrowed dangerously. "The death of our Queen must be avenged."

He looked away for a moment, ignoring the scrape of the gun barrel across his forehead. "I will tell you no more that will help you in battle." Again, he locked dark gazes with John. "Your fate is sealed, Lantean. You will not leave this planet alive."

"We'll see." John took a deep breath and pulled the gun back from the prisoner's head. Without another word he swiftly struck the barrel across the man's face, knocking him unconscious. "Sounds like they got to your spies, Ford."

"You didn't kill him." Ford's voice was almost accusatory as he completely ignored John's statement.

"No," John answered flatly. He looked around at the wide street, bordered by rubble and dark alleys, all great places for ambushers to hide. "We're too out in the open here. We need to get moving." He holstered his sidearm and again lifted his P-90 to a ready stance. He did a quick calculation in his head. With two of Ford's men dead, they were down to eight. Not as good as ten, but better than four. John briefly arched a brow. Not an ideal answer, but then again, there was nothing about this situation that even remotely qualified as ideal.

He flinched, jumping at the gunshot right next to him and spun around, eyes widening as Ford lowered his gun. John's gaze shifted to the remains of their prisoner's head. "Damn it, Ford!"

Unfazed, Ford's expression was unnervingly calm as he looked at John. "Leave no enemy alive, Sheppard." He gestured haphazardly at the dead worshipper. "We didn't need him behind us."

John glared at Ford, a slew of scathing words flying through his head, but all of them silenced by the persistent nagging of his instincts. They were too out in the open to be arguing now. "Move out," he snapped, turning away.

Cautiously, he moved forward, leading his team down the street, his well practiced combat skills allowing him to push aside Ford's actions and focus on their situation. Adrenaline sharpened his senses, making him keenly aware of everything around him, and the silence was oppressing. The only sounds were the footsteps of his team. Nothing else, not even a breeze to rattle its way between buildings or shift debris around him. He felt like he had a gigantic target on him and that any moment some Wraith was going to bull's-eye it.

At the next intersection, he paused and carefully peeked around the corner before gesturing his team forward as he walked down the cross street. He sighed regretfully as they passed a charred pile of wreckage. Even amidst the destruction, enough pieces were left to unmistakably identify it as their jumper… or what was left of it. "Don't think we'll find anything helpful there," he commented darkly.

"Damn it," Rodney said. "I was hoping there'd be at least something left that we could use."

John's thoughts again lingered on the Wraith's annoying but admirable trait of never, ever doing anything half-assed. "I think that was the point of obliterating it, Rodney." He did a quick calculation in his head. "Still about a mile and a half to the gate."

"Gonna get worse the closer we get," Ronon commented quietly.

John nodded. "Yeah. I expect the gate to be pretty heavily guarded along with the area around it, especially now that they've destroyed the jumper. They know it's the only place we can go to escape."

"They're right," Ronon answered.

"What do we do?" Teyla asked from right behind John.

John sighed and shook his head. "Well, it **is** our only option. We keep moving, fight where we have to, avoid fighting if we can."

"What do we do when we get there?" Rodney interjected, "in case you haven't noticed, we have limited ammo here."

"One thing at a time, McKay" John insisted, staying focused. "First we need to get there. We'll figure it out then."

"For some reason I don't find that very comforting," Rodney muttered.

John quirked a brow, silently agreeing with Rodney. They needed a good plan, but right now, he really couldn't make one. They had no idea how much resistance they'd encounter, what it would take in ammo to get by that resistance, or what they'd have left in both manpower and ammo when they did finally get to the gate. He pushed away the thoughts, taking his own advice.

One thing at a time.

* * *

High atop the tallest building left somewhat standing, the wind was stiff. It blew his white hair straight out behind him, but he paid it no heed. His gaze focused, he watched from a distance beyond human eyesight, focusing in on movement in the streets. The humans were tasking his fighters and their worshippers, but he'd expected no less. These super humans had proven themselves formidable and the deadly abilities of the Lanteans were well known amongst his brethren. The worshipers were expendable and served their purpose efficiently, diminishing manpower and ammunition with each encounter. Satisfaction flooded through him. He would take great pleasure in exacting revenge on those who led… those responsible for his Queen's demise. Their death would be face to face and personal. He would watch the life slowly ebb from their eyes amidst torture and pain.

He flexed his feeding hand, feeling a surge of strength flow through him. They'd already captured skirmishers, some dead in the fight, some brought before him and his brothers. They'd fed long and deep, savoring the defiance and gathering strength from it for the coming fight.

He turned his head slightly, scanning the ruined city to settle on the gate. Each street leading to it was well guarded and the gate itself guarded best of all. There, and directly before it, lay his best fighters. Males who'd pursued and dispatched multiple Runners across the galaxy, proving themselves as keen warriors, along with the biggest and strongest of the drones. That alone was formidable, but all of them had fed on the skirmishers and their regeneration and strength was at its highest.

His lips pulled back in a sneer. If they were not dispatched of before reaching the gate, the humans would face the best of his hive. He swiftly turned and hastily made his way down off the building. The humans were quickly advancing towards their defeat and he would be there to ensure it.

* * *

Three cross streets later, John paused again, his back pressed flat against a wall and his breaths coming fast. They knew there'd be more fighting the closer they got to the gate, but the pursuit by the Wraith and by the worshipers was relentless. Each time they fought their way through a group, another wasn't far behind, pushing them into a vicious cycle of fight and run. The pace was grueling and taking its toll on all of them. He looked back at his team, each of them using the moment to catch their breath. The only ones that seemed unaffected were Ford and his three men. Without even breaking a sweat, they covered the six.

"We cannot keep up this pace," Teyla said between breaths, "we will run out of ammunition long before we reach the gate."

John nodded. "I know." He looked around. "Looks like we've evaded them, at least for now." His gaze passed over Teyla, Ronon and Rodney. "Catch your breath."

"Thank god," Rodney gasped.

John swallowed hard, willing his body to recover as fast as possible.

"Shep-!"

John's head snapped towards Ford, his warning cut off by a deafening gunshot, followed immediately by one of Ford's men crumpling to the ground amidst a lethal splatter of blood. "MOVE!" John shouted, stepping away from the wall to cover his team's retreat. Holding his P-90 tight to his shoulder and cheek, he flipped on the laser sight and switched the weapon to single shot mode. He zeroed in on the first worshipper he saw. Pulling the trigger, he sent two bullets into the man's forehead, killing him amongst the sounds of his team scrambling past him and around the corner to the next street. Bullets bounced off the wall next to him and he flinched before firing at another worshipper, winging him in the side.

"Sheppard!" Ronon's voice echoed around him and John immediately backpedaled, knowing that Ronon was there to cover his retreat. He dashed to the opposite side of the road from where his team was, and took cover behind a neighboring building, just across from them. He took a deep breath, exhaled loudly and crouched, before edging around the corner and firing on four worshipers making their way down the street towards him, Ronon's shots joining his. The worshipers immediately scattered, taking cover behind any debris they could find.

John ducked back behind the wall. "Screw this." He reached into the side pocket of his TAC vest and pulled out a C4 charge and timer. Setting it for ten seconds he started the timer, turned, and tossed it down the street. "Fire in the hole!" Pulling back behind the wall, he covered his ears, but even that couldn't completely tune out the deafening explosion. He gave it a three count and then carefully peeked around the corner. Incinerated debris sporadically fell back to the ground, crackling and burning, but there were no other noises. He stood and carefully surveyed the scene for any survivors. After a long moment, he was confident there weren't any left alive and lowered his gun. "Clear."

"Hate to disappoint you, but not so much!" Rodney shouted back, his voice on the edge of panic.

John spun towards his team, his gaze focusing on another group of worshipers running down the street towards them. "Shit! Go!" He fired, taking one of the worshipers in the chest and slowing down the rest as they ducked to cover in response. His team ran past him as the worshipers returned fire, taking one of Ford's men in the back.

Ford staggered to a stop next to John and swiveled around in response to the gunshot. "Nat!" He surged towards his man and John immediately reached out, stopping him.

"You can't! He's dead!" John wasn't entirely sure of his declaration but had seen enough men shot to know he was likely right. Either way, running back down the street was suicide.

"Ford, no!" Derg grabbed Ford's arm and hauled him around the corner and down the street, John backpedaling to cover their six.

They sprinted back the way they'd just come and John's mind raced. Backtracking was not a strategy high on his list of good ideas, but right now his main focus was trying to not get them all killed. Gunfire erupted behind them. John dove for cover, looking around and assuring himself that the rest of his team had done the same and were safe, at least for the moment. Rising to a crouch, he sent a volley of gunfire back at the worshipers, hitting at least one. He couldn't be sure how badly he'd wounded the guy, but for now, he'd take any hit as a win. Again, he ducked behind the rubble and tapped his headset. "McKay! We need another route to the gate!"

"_As if mapping that route wasn't hard enough!"_ McKay shot back, his irritation clear even over the radio. _"Half the streets around here are blocked and you want me to find another route?" _

"Yes!" John shouted back, flinching as bullets chewed up the rubble just above his head. "Or we could just sit here and die!" His retort was loud enough that he was pretty sure he didn't need the radio.

"_Not helping!"_ Rodney snapped. _"Stand by!" _

John ducked as more of the rubble over him broke lose under relentless gunfire. He heard return shots from Teyla, Ford, and Ronon, and he twisted to the side of his cover to add his own shots to the fray. "McKay!" He shouted, his tone distinctly a warning one.

"_Got it!"_ Rodney answered. _"But we have to go back the way we came. Think you can repeat your C4 trick?" _

John again took cover. "You've got to be kidding me. The buildings around here are unstable at best! I was lucky not to bring them down on our heads the first time!"

"_No choice,"_ Rodney answered. _"We have to go that way! There's no other route to the gate!" _

"_Do it, Sheppard,"_ Ronon added his voice to the conversation.

John grumbled and pulled out his last charge of C4. Setting the timer to ten seconds, he started it, straightened and lobbed it down the street. "Fire in the hole!" Ducking, he covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut as the charge detonated. As debris rained down around him, John slowly looked up and then around the rubble and down the street. "McKay?" he looked over at his teammate, "anything on the detector?"

"Negative," Rodney answered. "Not in the immediate vicinity anyway. But as the ambushes keep painfully proving, there's some sort of interference making the detector unreliable at best."

"It must be the Wraith," Teyla interjected. "They know we have Lantean technology. They must be trying to block it."

John gripped his P-90 tightly, turned and slowly stood, searching the eerily quiet street for any sign of life. He panned the street three times before he was confident the C4 had taken them all out. "Clear."

Rodney walked up next to him. "At the next intersection, take a right, then left at the following one."

John tipped his chin. "Got it. Let's go." He led his team back towards the intersection and resisted the urge to groan in frustration. Two more men down with only his team, Ford, and Derg left. Six against who knows how many Wraith and worshippers, and still at least a klick or more from the gate.

At the corner, John paused, peeked around and surveyed the quiet street. He looked back at his team and motioned with his head for them to follow as he warily stepped around the corner and started down the ominously quiet street. Dust and debris blew around his feet as a breeze picked up a little speed and the light debris around them rattled in response. John's grip on his P-90 was tight, resisting the urge to jump at every sound and to cuss the breeze that was causing the noise in the first place. As he reached the motionless body of Nat, John knelt, his eyes glancing over the massive wound in the man's back. He pressed his fingers into Nat's throat, even though he knew it was pointless. He gave it a good ten count before looking up at Ford and shaking his head.

Ford's face was expressionless, but he did nod once, curtly, in return.

John pushed himself wearily to his feet and continued down the street. He'd only gone a half dozen steps before his headset clicked twice. Stopping, he risked looking back long enough to see Rodney gesture at his detector before flashing all five fingers twice at him, and then pointing left in the direction they had to go to reach the gate. John soundlessly drifted left to a nearby alley, waving his team to follow. When they'd huddled up in the shadows, he looked at Rodney. "Ten?"

Rodney nodded. "Directly in our path to the gate. Can't tell if they're Wraith or human, but they're definitely there."

John's lips tightened as he considered their situation. "Any way to circle around and ambush them?"

"Not sure," Rodney answered, while poking buttons on his detector. "Looking, but I doubt it. Almost every road around here is blocked with debris. We get backed up against a road block and we're dead."

Teyla patted her vest pocket. "I have one charge of C4 left. Perhaps we can cause a collapse and eliminate them that way?"

John shook his head. "Too risky. The collapse could block our only way to the gate."

"Nope," Rodney piped up. "No other route." He looked up at John, shaking his head the whole time.

"Damn," John muttered and dropped his head, sighing heavily.

Ford took a step forward. "We know they're there. McKay's detector can pinpoint them. I say we walk in, take 'em out as they show up."

John glanced at Ford and mulled over his words. Under normal circumstances, the plan was more than slightly suicidal, but right now, his list of options was pretty short.

"Sheppard."

John looked over at Ronon, who was staring intently at the partially collapsed building sitting at the next intersection and presumably close to their ambushers. "What?"

Ronon pointed. "The ruins. Look to you like we can get on top of it?"

John's eyes traveled over the building and a smile slowly spread across his face. "Yeah, it does." He looked back at the rest of his team. "We get up on the high ground and it'll be like shooting fish in a barrel." He gestured at Rodney's detector. "Pinpoint their location. Are they near that building?"

Rodney nodded. "Yes. They're about twenty-five yards down the left-hand street towards the gate. You'll be able to easily spot them from on top of that building."

"John, those ruins must be unstable," Teyla reasoned. "Going up on top of them is very dangerous."

John looked at her and nodded. "I know, but I don't see where we have much choice." He focused on Ronon and did a double take at the Satedan's almost eager expression. Sometimes his teammate gave the term gung-ho a brand new meaning. Frowning, he arched a brow at Ronon who just shrugged in return. John looked back at Teyla. "Ronon and I will handle this. I need you four to take position at the intersection to clean up any stragglers that might get past us."

"Yes, sir," Ford responded immediately.

John nodded back. "Okay, let's do this." Lifting his P-90 he eased out into the street, Ronon right behind him. Slinking from debris pile to debris pile, John and Ronon made their way down the street towards the ruined building. John's breaths came quick but even, instinctively tapping into skills and experiences from his past. Memories of street fighting, dodging bullets and Taliban in Kandahar and the bordering villages, flashed through his mind.

_He lifted the M-16 to a ready position as he rounded another corner. His held breath quietly escaped him as he cautiously walked down the empty street…. _

John shook off the memories, focusing on the task in front of him as he reached the bombed out ruins of the building in question. He looked up, eyeballing the ruins, and quickly identified rough edges and piles of debris that would give him a path to what was left of the roof. From there, he was pretty sure they could make their way over to the ambushers' position. He glanced back, briefly making eye contact with Ronon before the big Satedan turned, covering his six as John lowered his P-90 and let it hang from his vest. Reaching up, he found a hand hold and then a foot hold, as he started his ascent. Moving from one rough edge to another, using piles of debris here and there as stepping stones, John made his way to the top of the building. Once there, he found good footing, picked up his P-90 and motioned to Ronon to begin his ascent.

If John's ascent had been quick, Ronon's was quicker, but that fact didn't bother John in the least. The sooner they managed to get to the gate, the better their chances were at escape. Once Ronon was with him, John turned and started maneuvering across the unstable remains of the rooftop. He roughly calculated their position in his head before reaching up and tapping his headset. "McKay, how close are we?" he whispered.

"_Two meters,"_ Rodney instantly responded. _"Move to the edge of the building. You should be able to spot them."_

"Copy that." John looked back at Ronon and motioned his head towards the edge of the building, before proceeding that direction. But, the instant he took his next step, he knew something was wrong. His arms flailed wide as his foot sunk, breaking through the ruins and into dead air. His hands groped for something to grab onto but nothing offered him any purchase. Convinced he was going to fall, a surprised breath exploded from his lungs as something snagged the back of his TAC vest and hauled him back to safety.

Seated on stable roofing, John gasped quietly, inhaling deeply before he looked back at Ronon, who still had a strong hold on his vest. "Thanks," his hushed voice wavered slightly.

Ronon's eyes crinkled in what could've been the start of a smile as he let go of John's vest and patted his shoulder twice before standing up straight.

John slowly stood. "We'd be foolish to think they didn't hear that," he whispered. "Hopefully they think it's from inside the building and not from someone crazy enough to be up here."

"Maybe," he whispered back. The smile that had touched Ronon's eyes spread to his mouth in a somewhat maniacal grin.

John arched a brow at his teammate. "You're having too much fun with this insanity," he groused.

Ronon held on to his grin. "Yep."

John flashed Ronon a mock glare before he carefully moved around the unstable part of the building and made his way to the edge. Slowly, he peeked over the side and couldn't help smiling just a little. The ambushers were concentrating their attention on the interior of the building, never bothering to look up.

He leaned back, away from the ledge and looked down at his P-90, mentally tallying his ammo and not liking the number he came up with. He exchanged worried glances with Ronon, before he flipped the weapon to full automatic. "You work left to right," he whispered, "I'll work right to left."

Ronon nodded and crept up next to John. As one they crouched, easing forward. Dropping to a prone position, they scooted right up to the edge and leaned slightly over it. In position, they immediately opened fire.

The cold and calculated mindset of combat instantly set over John as he methodically picked off each of his targets, his thoughts barely registering their deaths. His training, deeply ingrained in him and almost reflexive, had only been reinforced by more combat and covert ops than he could count. Kill or be killed. Survive. At this point in his life, it was an automatic switch, turning on when needed, off when not. He never thought about it, and to be honest, he never wanted to.

Dispatching another target, movement caught John's eye and he shifted slightly, sending a volley at one more worshipper, who managed to duck into the remains of a nearby building just as John fired at him. "Damn it." He slapped his headset. "One got away. Southwest, next building over. Headed your way."

"_On it,"_ Ford immediately replied.

"_We will get him, John,"_ Teyla added.

His gun still held ready, John scanned the bodies below them, looking for any sign of life. He scanned twice more, for good measure, before pushing himself up. "Clear. Let's move." He ejected the empty clip and loaded his last full one. He turned, covering as much ground as he could towards their exit, wary of unstable sections of the roof. Reaching the edge, John quickly made his way down, before covering Ronon's descent.

As Ronon jumped from the last bit of rubble to the ground, a lone gunshot grabbed John's attention. He spun towards it, looking for a target.

"_Got him,"_ Ford's triumphant voice came over the radio. _"Target neutralized." _

John tapped his headset. "Copy that. McKay, anything on the detector?"

"_Nothing at the moment,"_ Rodney answered.

John nodded to himself. "Okay. Everyone rendezvous at the intersection. Sheppard out." He looked back at Ronon and jerked his head towards the road before moving off at a brisk walk, his gun held ready. At the intersection, his gaze passed over each approaching member of his team, and a moment of relief washed through him. They still had a ways to go to get to the gate, but they all were healthy and unwounded. In his book, that counted for a lot.

The moment was short lived.

"Move!" Rodney shouted as he waved frantically. "Wraith!"

John looked past him, his gaze focusing on two males and four drones headed their direction from one of the cross streets. "Shit! Run!" He lifted his gun, waiting for the Wraith to come into range as McKay, Ford, Derg and Teyla sprinted towards them. "Move!" he shouted. He braced one foot behind him, switched his gun to single shot mode and sent two shots into the head of one of the drones, who dropped like a stone. Backpedaling, he covered his team's six, firing again, his shots joined by red arcs of blaster fire coming from Ronon's gun.

John dove behind a pile of rubble, the tingling of a stun beam signaling how near a miss it was. He rolled into a crouch at the edge of the rubble and opened fire again. This time more gunfire sounded around him as his team found strategic spots and joined his effort. John's mind briefly registered the distinct sound of automatic fire from both Teyla and Rodney's P-90's. At this rate, they'd run out of ammo fast, but they had no choice. Faced with this many Wraith, they'd be overwhelmed if they restricted themselves to single shot mode. The overwhelming fire made quick work of the Wraith and suddenly, it was silent again. John slowly stood and cautiously walked towards the Wraith bodies. Three of them were moving weakly, including the two males, but a few shots from his .45 ended it. He holstered the weapon and looked around. "McKay. Scanner."

"Nothing at the moment," Rodney answered before squinting and glancing around at the side streets. "Don't expect that to last."

"These Wraith did not die easily," Teyla observed.

John nodded. "Just what I was thinking." He turned a grim gaze on Ford. "They've fed recently. My guess is your skirmish teams."

Ford's face was expressionless as he looked away.

"We haven't run into any of them," John added quietly.

Ford looked back at him and nodded.

"Time to go," Rodney tapped his detector screen rapidly. "More coming."

"These guys just don't stop," John groused before taking point and leading his team down the street. As he rounded a corner onto the next street, he staggered, the diving blue arc of a stun beam striking the ground just in front of him throwing him off balance. Surprised, John scrambled, trying to mount some sort of defense and stay on his feet at the same time.

"Sheppard!"

Ford's voice cut through the roaring in John's ears as he staggered backwards. He looked up, his eyes widening as a Wraith male, holding a stun rifle took aim at him. He struggled to keep his footing and still raise his P-90, but in the back of his head, he was pretty sure he couldn't shoot in time.

The deafening sound of a gunshot from his left immediately preceded the male lurching backwards and falling. John felt a steady set of hands on his side and he looked over, meeting gazes with Ford who yanked him back around the corner and to cover.

John staggered hard, his back slamming against the wall, but he took a deep breath and nodded once at Ford. "Thanks."

Ford flashed him the briefest of smiles. "Got your six, boss."

"Touching!" Rodney snapped. "But do I need to remind you that we're being **pursued**?"

John pushed away from the wall. "How many in front of us?" he demanded.

"None," Rodney's voice was puzzled. "I don't see anything on the detector."

"Snipers?" Ronon asked.

"Maybe," John said, his own confidence rattled.

"Not good." Rodney met grim gazes with John. "Either it was just the one or the interference is masking other signals."

John pulled in a deep breath. They couldn't stay there long, but needed to know what was in front of them. He raised the nose of his P-90, settling on the only choice they had. "Only one way to find out." Slowly, he turned, easing himself around the corner, his gun held ready as he scanned the quiet street. Behind him, he could feel the large, strong presence of Ronon and drew confidence from it. If anyone could smell an ambush, Ronon could.

John took a step, the sound of his boot crunching in the debris deceptively loud as he strained to hear anything else. A light breeze lifted the hair on the back of his head as he took another step, his concentration focused forward looking for any movement ahead of them. He let his instincts surface as he tried to detect any attack hoping instinct and training together would warn him that much faster than either would alone, give him an extra split second to react… a split second that would likely make a difference in life or death. He halted, panning his gun first left and then right. Only silence and motionless debris stared back at him. He angled his head slightly to look at Ronon, who scowled back at him and shook his head slightly.

John sighed. "Sniper," he said quietly. He looked back over his shoulder. "Clear." He shifted his attention forward again as his team plus Derg and Ford gathered around him. "We're going to have to keep our eyes open with snipers around."

"As if we weren't paying attention before," Rodney muttered.

"It's going to slow us down," Ford added.

John nodded. "I know. I think that's the idea. Slow us down so they can overpower us." He started forward, gun raised. "We've been able to move pretty quickly so far, even with the skirmishes. They haven't been able to corner us." He forced himself to move out at a brisk walk, resisting the urge to break into a jog. "That just changed. Sooner we get to the gate, the better, but watch yourselves."

* * *

At the next intersection he stopped, pressing his back to the building behind him and lowering his gun. The gate was close, just down this street and in a large plaza. He peeked around the corner of the building and pursed his lips in frustration. At least twenty Wraith milled around the gate. He pulled back, and rested his head against the wall, exhaling quietly, before looking at Ronon, who loomed next to him. John shook his head. Slowly, he scooted away from the edge of the building and waved his hand for his team to circle up.

"Bad?" Ronon whispered.

"Yeah. At least twenty. Males and drones. With how open the area is, there's no way they won't see us coming."

"There are five of us," Teyla interjected, "perhaps we can attack quickly and surprise them?"

John shrugged. "Maybe. How are you all set on ammo?"

Teyla looked down at her gun for a moment, and then back at him. "I have only a half clip for my P-90. My sidearm clip is full and I have one spare."

Rodney tapped the P-90 hanging from his vest. "Out. Just my sidearm plus an extra clip."

"Derg and I have one clip each, boss," Ford answered.

"I'm about par with Teyla." John shook his head. "We don't have the ordinance to take out twenty, healthy Wraith," he concluded. He scratched the back of his head absently, his mind racing as he searched for an alternative.

"Well, we can't just stay here." Rodney's whisper was emphatic. "What now?"

John considered their options. They'd managed to elude a large group of Wraith a few blocks back, but if they stood around too long, those guys would catch up, and they'd end up caught in a crossfire.

Teyla's voice was determined. "If there are more on patrol, then we must seize the gate before they return, and before those behind us catch up."

John slowly viewed the group. He didn't like the odds, but liked the alternatives even less. If they had a hope in hell of getting to the gate and escaping, they had to act now. His scanning gaze settled on Teyla and he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"No," Ford abruptly spoke. He glanced at Derg and both men raised their guns. "We need a diversion. Derg and I will draw a bunch of them away, you take care of the rest."

John shook his head. "No. We need to stick together, pool our resources." His gaze narrowed as both Ford and Derg walked past him.

"We got this sir," Ford answered and broke into a run, Derg beside him.

"Ford… Damnit!" John hissed as he lunged for Ford's arm, but was a half second too late. Gritting his teeth, he was left to watch the two men run at an overwhelmingly large group of Wraith, guns blazing.

Before they reached the plaza, Derg and Ford ducked down a side street and as Ford had predicted, roughly half the group guarding the gate immediately took up the pursuit.

John did a quick head count. Eleven Wrsaith, a mix of drones and large males, remained.

"He was right," Teyla said softly.

"That wasn't the point," John shot back and then sighed apologetically. "Come on, let's take care of these guys and get his reckless ass back!" John dashed out from behind the building, immediately opening fire and taking the first male squarely in the chest with several rounds, dropping him. Around him, John felt the concussion of shots from his people as they methodically fired on the Wraith, dodging stunner fire and taking cover where they could find it. He focused on his own hide and keeping from getting shot, trusting his teammates' skills to do the same for them.

Turning away from the remaining Wraith for just a second, John's eyes widened at the sight of three worshippers running down the street towards them. "On the six!" he shouted as he fired, but a broken cry to his left told him his warning was too late. His gaze narrowed and he dropped one of the worshippers before diving for cover. "Ronon, McKay!" He yelled into his radio, "Stay on the Wraith!" His gaze settled on Teyla, hunched over and grasping her left shoulder. Even from a distance, he could see the pain etched on her face.

John's jaw clenched in determination and he stood, opening fire on the remaining two worshippers. Bullets pinged off rubble around him, but he paid it no attention. Cold, ruthless determination settled over him and his gaze narrowed in on his targets. Dark clarity backed his skills and he dropped both of them with no hesitation before spinning and adding his fire to McKay and Ronon's shots. Even a wounded Teyla made use of her one good hand and a fully loaded sidearm. It was over quickly, the Wraith dead and dying in the dirt surrounding the gate.

John lowered his nearly empty P-90 and waved at Ronon. "Finish them." He jogged over to Teyla and knelt next to her. "How bad?" he asked, his tone softening.

"Bad enough," she managed through gasps, "but I will be fine."

John's gaze settled on her wounded shoulder. Blood seeped through her clenched fingers as she tried to stem the flow. He looked up at Rodney as the scientist trotted over to them and tuned out the sound of shots from Ronon's gun as the Satedan carried out his order. John pointed at Teyla's shoulder. "Bandage it." He gazed past Rodney to an approaching Ronon and made the only decision his core values could allow. He'd lost Ford once, left him behind, faced his cousin… faced himself. He wouldn't do it again. In his own mind, John had a list of beliefs he'd give his life for and this one sat, uncontested, on the top of that list.

He fixed Ronon with a commanding stare. "Stay here. Take care of them," his voice was clipped and short. "Any more Wraith or worshippers come this way, you dial that gate and get them back to Atlantis." He watched Rodney bandage Teyla's shoulder. "Don't wait for me." His voice was quiet but filled with every ounce of resolve he felt.

"John…." Teyla started.

"Not open for discussion." John cut her off sternly. He looked at Ronon. "Take care of them and get back to Atlantis safely. That's an order."

Ronon narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, John was sure he was going to have to argue the order with his strong-minded friend, but after a moment, Ronon nodded once. "You better come back," he rumbled quietly.

John wasn't sure what to say. He certainly couldn't guarantee it, but then again he was pretty sure Ronon knew that, so he just settled for a grim nod. Without another word, he ran down the street where he'd last seen Ford.

* * *

Gunfire alerted John that he'd found his friend, long before he saw him. John staggered to a stop and wheeled around, trying to pinpoint the echoing shots. Another shot and his head snapped to the right, following the sound to a dark side street. Without hesitation, he dashed down it following the street to where it ended in a large empty lot, bordered by tall remains of buildings and scattered with random chunks of rubble. He skidded to a stop, his feet sinking in deep, yellow sand as he opened fire purely out of reflex, his P-90 shots dropping a large drone.

Six Wraith, dead or mortally wounded, lay scattered around the lot along with a motionless Derg, the grip of a large knife protruding from his chest and reflecting the sun. Even from several feet away, John could tell that Derg's open eyes were lifeless. John ducked behind some rubble and zeroed in on Ford. The Lieutenant was slowly moving backwards, a knife held confidently in his hand, his own, presumably empty, weapon at his feet. Facing him, two Wraith males hissed and cautiously approached, both holding their own knives. One flexed his feeding hand and hissed again.

A stun blast sent chunks of debris into the side of John's head and he flinched, before twisting and firing on a drone, running towards him.

"Son of a bitch," John grumbled, concentrating his shots on the drone and using the last of his P-90 ammo to drop him. John stepped out from behind the rubble, and turned his attention back to Ford, who still faced off against the two remaining males. Letting his P-90 drop to hang from his vest, John smoothly drew his .45 and put half a clip into the side of the nearest male.

John cursed as Ford immediately engaged the other, robbing him of a clean shot. He resisted the urge to shout to Ford to get clear, not wanting to cause a potentially lethal distraction to his friend. Ford had always been an expert at hand to hand combat, and at this moment, strengthened by enzyme, he was giving the large male a run for his money. John stepped completely out of the rubble and slowly circled them, his weapon poised, looking for an opening, but the fight was fast, irregular and at close quarters. He didn't dare fire off a shot.

Abruptly, his internal alarm went off, his instincts screaming as he suddenly was aware of something… a presence… danger to his right. John twisted, trying to bring his weapon to bear, but he was just barely too late. A large male, larger than any he'd seen so far, leapt at him, crossing an inhuman distance at an inhuman speed. The world abruptly tilted as the male backhanded him, sending him flying helplessly through the air.

Air exploded from John's lungs and his weapon flew from his hand, as his body slammed into the hard ground. He grunted, fighting to pull in a breath, darkness edging in on his vision. Reeling, his thoughts scrambled, John struggled to muster up some sort of defense against the Wraith he knew was descending in for the kill. His hand flailed in the rough sand, grasping and searching for his gun as he fought to get his wind back. Through the roaring in his ears, he could hear the male's hissing voice.

"You stole our Queen, human. My mate. By my hands, you will die."

John opened his mouth, but void of any breath, all he could manage were strangled sounds. He fought, willing his lungs to obey, willing himself to breathe.

"Sheppard!"

John blinked hard, the sound of Ford's urgent voice driving him. He shook his head and finally pulled in a deep breath of air, its effects flushing through his body. He looked up, his vision focusing on Ford dashing across the space between him and the Wraith, leaving the motionless bodies of two males behind him. Recklessly, Ford plowed into the Wraith sending them both to the ground in a mad scramble.

"Ford!" Adrenaline, along with urgent concern for his teammate, immediately cleared John's head. He pushed himself to his knees, his gaze zeroing in on his .45. Tucking his shoulder, he rolled, grabbed the gun and came up to one knee, his aim trained on the scuffling bodies a dozen yards away. Again, he found himself in a situation where he didn't have a clean shot and was forced to wait, motionless, almost helpless, searching for a way to help his friend. His eyes widened and he watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the male overpowered Ford's defenses and lunged at him. "No!" John surged to his feet as a strangled cry from Ford reached his ears. John braced his feet and took aim as Ford folded to the ground, leaving him with a clear shot. He opened fire, emptying his clip in the male's torso.

Without hesitation, John ejected the clip and loaded another as the Wraith fell to his knees. He squeezed the trigger, putting several more shots into the male, who toppled over on his side. John kept his aim, forcing himself to focus on the feebly moving male and not his wounded teammate. Cautiously he walked towards the Wraith, a cold, ruthless determination settling in his gut. He stared down at him.

"Human," the male hissed.

John tightened his grip on the gun. "Bastard." Wasting no time, he put three shots in the Wraith's head, not flinching as flecks of hot, black blood splattered on his face.

John holstered the gun, only then wiping a sleeve across his face. He spun and took two giant steps to kneel by Ford, who was curled on his left side in almost a fetal position.

"Ford?" John gently grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. His gaze settled on a rapidly spreading blood stain on Ford's left abdomen, and John fought to keep his expression neutral. The dark blood seeping around Ford's clenched fingers told John all he needed to know, though he wished the verdict was different. Reaching in his TAC vest, he hastily ripped a pressure bandage from his pocket, shook it open and laid it over the wound before pressing hard, evoking another pained cry from Ford. The gut wound was serious. In his years of CSAR missions he'd seen wounds like that on guys who, more often than not, died in the back of his Pave.

John pushed the thoughts away and plastered a reassuring expression on his face. "Easy, buddy. You're gonna be okay."

"Sir," Ford gasped.

John looked down, and even through the twisting grimace of pain, he could see the knowing expression on Ford's face.

Breathing heavily, Ford shook his head just a little.

John gritted his teeth in determination. "None of that, Lieutenant," he snapped, his tone commanding. He waited a moment, before softening his voice. "You're going to get through this, Aiden. I'll get you back to Atlantis. Beckett will fix you up as good as new."

"Sir," Ford put his hand over the bandage, nudging away John's hand, and with his other, weakly pushed at John's shoulder. "You need to… get away. Wraith… worshippers… gotta… go."

John grabbed Ford's pushing hand and squeezed it hard. "I am **not** leaving you behind. Not this time." He held strong to Ford's hand and wormed his free hand under Ford's shoulder blade. He lifted against dead weight. "Sit up," he ordered. "Now."

Ford stared at him for a moment, before lifting his head and struggling to raise his torso. "Yes, sir," he gasped.

Once sitting up, John took Ford's hand and planted it on the front of his vest. "Hold on to my TAC vest while I secure the bandage." He hastily wrapped the long strands of the bandage around Ford's midsection and secured them tightly before pivoting on his kneeling foot and throwing Ford's arm over his shoulders. He wrapped his other arm around Ford's waist. "Easy now. On three. One, two, three." John lifted, straightening and hauling Ford to his feet. For his part, Ford tried to take as much weight as he could, but in the end, John bore most of it.

Holding fast, John walked and Ford staggered as they slowly made their way back down the street. But as they reached the intersection, John stumbled as Ford turned to dead weight. He looked down, his lips tightening at the dark, blood soaked bandage. It hadn't taken long and that, more than anything, told John how seriously Ford was wounded.

"I can't… sir…" Ford gasped as his legs folded under him.

John grunted but held strong, easing Ford to the ground and kneeling next to him.

"Sir… I'm sorry…" Ford's voice was just as weak as his body.

John mustered as much confidence as he could, even though the cold voice of reason whispered facts at him that he didn't want to hear. "It's okay, buddy." He pulled out another bandage and pressed it over the first one. This time, Ford barely reacted to the pressure. He looked down at his friend's closed eyes. "Aiden? Open your eyes. Stay with me here."

Ford's eyes cracked open just a little. "Yes… sir." He coughed weakly, blood tinged spittle trickling from the side of his mouth. "I'm sorry… for everything."

Ford's words held John's gaze, and in that moment, he saw regret, sadness, and even a touch of the carefree innocence he'd come to know in the Lieutenant during their first year on Atlantis. "Nothing to be sorry for," he answered quietly as he forced his hand under Ford's back, working the bandage strap through.

"Yes," Ford insisted. "Almost got you… killed. On the… hive." Ford blinked heavily, his breathing shallow. "Bad… plan."

In spite of the pain and injury, there was clarity in Ford's eyes that John hadn't seen in a long time. He shook his head. "Enzyme, buddy. Enzyme. Not you."

Ford smiled just a little. "I know… now. It's…s'clear…" Weakly, he reached up, his hand settling on John's forearm. "Best CO I've ever… had, sir. Best… duty… Atlantis."

John swallowed hard, pushing back a lump that threatened to strangle his voice. "Lieutenant," he answered softly, holding tightly to some shred of professionalism, something to keep it all together. "You're the best officer it's been my pleasure to command." He inhaled deeply, holding his emotions in check in the face of a reality he no longer could deny. There would be no homecoming for Ford and that fact threatened to break down the pillars of control he worked so hard to hold onto. His mind spinning, he groped for the right words, finally settling on the only ones he could think of. He squeezed Ford's shoulder. "Been a pleasure," he managed quietly.

In a moment of strength, Ford smiled a weak, but so familiar, toothy grin. "Yes… sir," he managed. The smile faded and, with it, the light in Ford's eyes as they slowly closed. Under his grip, John could feel the muscles in Ford's shoulder go limp as his entire body quietly sagged into the ground.

John closed his eyes for a minute, the danger of this planet and the peril to his own life momentarily forgotten. He opened his eyes and slowly reached out, his fingers shakily settling on Ford's neck, searching for a pulse he knew wasn't there. His touch lingered longer than needed before he slowly pulled away. A flash of a familiar metal chain around Ford's neck caught his eye and he grabbed it, gently pulling it out from under the tunic. Dangling at the end of the chain were Ford's dog tags, and again John found himself fighting to keep composure. Through thick and thin, through all the haze of the enzyme, Ford had never given them up. Somehow, he'd managed to hold on to who he was, even though the enzyme had taken so much from him. The strength they symbolized nurtured the already deep respect John carried for him… a respect he hoped Ford understood.

Wrapping his hand tightly around the chain, John pulled hard, yanking both loose. With the threat of combat still very real, retrieval of Ford's body was impossible, but in the tags, John had something to bring back to Ford's family.

He held the tags tightly in his hand, their hard edges pinching his palm, but the discomfort was lost on him. He took one more moment to look down at Ford's closed eyes. After a year of torment by the enzyme, hardship and pain running alone through the galaxy, Ford was finally at rest. Barely twenty six, he should've had so much more life ahead of him, but John had learned long ago that focusing on that injustice led nowhere. So with more practice than any person should ever have, he pushed it away, soundly silencing the injustice and replacing it with a strong memory that fueled his determination. The Wraith would pay for everything on his growing list of atonements, but for nothing more than what they'd stolen from Ford.

Reaching down, John silently squeezed Ford's shoulder one last time and stood. Slipping the tags in his vest pocket he drew his .45 and headed for the gate.

* * *

Once again, the sound of gunfire put John on point as he neared the gate. Stopping at the last intersection, he pressed his back into a building wall before cautiously peeking around the corner. His two handed grip tightened on his lowered .45 as he took in the scene before him.

Ronon, Teyla and Rodney had taken cover behind rubble close to the gate, their sporadic appearances as they traded shots with a small band of worshippers, revealing their position to John. He did a quick headcount on their attackers, identifying six worshippers, spread out across the plaza and working their way closer to his people, who solidly held their ground in front of the gate.

John gritted his teeth, frustrated that they hadn't escaped but pushed the feelings aside, focusing on the immediate situation. He took a calculated breath, slid along the wall and rolled around the corner before sprinting to a close by chunk of rubble. Crouching behind it, he tapped his headset. "This is Sheppard, do you read me?"

"_Sheppard?"_ Rodney's surprised voice immediately answered. _"Where the hell are you?"_

"About fifty yards out on your two o'clock," John answered. "Low on ammo, but I think I can help flush these guys out."

"_Copy that,"_ Rodney answered. There was a pause before he continued. _"Ready when you are."_

"Stand by." John leaned his head back against the rubble for a moment, ramping himself up for the fight, and a surge of adrenaline flowed through him in response. He shot to his feet, spun and leveled his aim at the first target the saw, opening fire. He dropped the man among surprised shouts by the other worshippers and the distraction was all his team needed. Amidst blasts from Ronon's gun and staccato shots from both Teyla and Rodney's .45's, John sprinted towards the fallen worshipper, diving behind the rubble as bullets pinged around him. He snatched the handgun from the dead man's grip and crouched, steadying the weapon on the rubble as he fired back at the remaining worshippers. They were helplessly caught in a crossfire and it was over quickly, a final shot from Ronon's gun dropping the last man.

John exhaled loudly a couple times, the tension in his body fading as he slowly stood before jogging over to his team. His gaze passed over Ronon and McKay, a moment of relief washing over him at the absence of any wounds. He looked down at Teyla, seated on the ground and leaning against a large chunk of rubble. His brows furrowed in concern at her pale face and the bloodstained bandage. "Teyla?"

She smiled faintly at him. "I have… been better."

John's head snapped towards Rodney. "Dial the gate."

"Aiden?"

Teyla's voice was soft, and when John turned his attention back to her, he saw her gaze fixed on his bloody hands, before her eyes slowly moved up to meet his. John pressed his lips firmly together, holding tight to his control and said nothing, as he pulled Ford's tags out of his vest pocket. Her gaze shifted to the tags and tears welled up in her eyes before she looked away.

"Oh God," Rodney muttered, rooted in place, John's order momentarily forgotten.

John swallowed hard and grimly looked at Rodney. "Now, McKay," he insisted, his quite voice still firm.

Rodney stiffened and nodded. "Right." He jogged to the DHD.

John pinned Ronon with a stern look, the sound of the gate chevrons locking in place behind him, doing nothing to soften his mood. "I ordered you to get through the gate."

Ronon stared right back at him, his expression unapologetic. "Not without you."

John inhaled deeply, ready to respond, but Teyla's soft tone cut off any reply he had.

"We would not…" Her voice broke and she drew in a stuttering breath. "You are not the only one who will not… leave a team member… behind."

John closed his eyes, the tacky feeling of drying blood on his hands pushing Ford back to the front of his mind, no matter how hard he tried to deflect those feelings in favor of the current situation. His head dropped and he grimaced, squeezing his eyes closed even tighter as he inhaled noisily through his nose, before letting his breath out equally as loudly through his mouth. In the background, he could hear Rodney over the radio contacting Atlantis and a confirmation that the shield was down, but the voices were quiet and distant in his roaring ears. Taking another breath, he opened his eyes and looked at Teyla, knowing full well she could see the pain in his expression in spite of the stoic mask he clung to, trying to cover it.

He looked over at Ronon and nodded once, curtly as he shoved Ford's tags back in his vest pocket. "Move out."

He knelt next to Teyla and helped her to her feet. Turning, he supported her weight as he stared hard at the gate, his emotions churning, but breaking against his strong wall of professionalism. Wordlessly, he led his team through the gate, and home.

* * *

_**Epilogue:**_

A light breeze ruffled John's hair as he stood, rigid, staring out across the East Pier. Without looking, he could feel the presence of his team around him, Teyla and Rodney next to him, Ronon behind. Beyond Ronon, a core of Atlantis personnel, including Carson, had turned out for the memorial ceremony as well as many Athosians. Friendly, easy going and kind hearted, Ford had always been well liked by everyone. There were so many more people in Atlantis now than had been that first year, but those from the original expedition were a close knit group and Ford had been part of that fabric of strength.

John's gaze settled on the wreathed picture sitting on a tripod at the end of the pier. Decked out in full Marine blues, Ford still had a ready smile. John could sense the happiness in the image even from far away, and it sent a stab of pain through his chest.

It'd been a little over a month since Ford had died, yet the pain was still close to him, and he knew it would be for a long time. It'd been that way with Mitch and Dex, and especially with Holland. The pain, sadly, was very familiar to him. This was the first opportunity they'd had to honor Ford on Atlantis, for while the core Atlantis team was close to him, they were not the first on the list to mourn….

_John paused on the doorstep of a small house in the suburbs of Chicago. He'd been there once before, when he'd still had optimism, still had hope he'd bring Ford back. He'd told her he wouldn't give up looking. Convinced her not to tell Aiden's grandparents he was gone, and now…._

_Taking a deep breath, he reached out and rang the doorbell. He shifted his cover under his arm and straightened his tie. All too often, his blues came out of the closet for the worst reasons, instead of the best ones. He stiffened as the door opened and an attractive woman looked back at him through the screen. She stared at him for a moment, before her head dropped, her shoulders sagging. _

"_Aiden is dead," she stated quietly but plainly._

_John stared at her. "I'm sorry, Aleah." Barely above a whisper, his voice still carried all the regret he felt. "Aiden gave his life to protect his team. I… I know it doesn't help, but he died with honor."_

_Tears filled her eyes. "It doesn't bring him back," she whispered, "but knowing that will help, eventually." _

_John reached into his inside pocket and pulled out Ford's tags. "We couldn't recover his… body, only these." _

_She reached out with a shaking hand, her fingers brushing lightly over the polished metal, but she didn't take them from him. Instead, she pulled her hand away and met his gaze. _

"_These don't belong to me." _

John pulled in a long breath of fresh, salty air as he watched Elizabeth slowly walk across the pier to stand next to the picture of Ford. For a moment, she looked down at the image, a faint melancholic smile pulling slightly at the corners of her mouth, before she looked up, her strong gaze passing over the audience. "Lieutenant Aiden Ford touched the lives of every person here," she started, her voice resolute and clear. "He was an exceptional soldier and never once shirked in his duty to the city, this mission and his team." Her gaze settled on John. "Right up until the end."

John stared evenly back at her, holding stubbornly to the stoicism that all too often had served him well in similar situations. A time always came, when the eyes of so many weren't on him, that he could let that mask down. But that time wasn't now.

Elizabeth looked away from him and back out across the crowd. "But more than his dedication to his duty, Aiden was a good person. He had a carefree soul and a ready smile that brightened the lives of everyone around him, even in the darkest of times. He cared for his friends, fellow expedition members and every good soul that he met." She again looked down at the picture for a moment, before gazing out over the crowd. "It was Aiden's humanity that was his best quality and the one that had the most impact on this expedition and everyone here." She fingered one of the white flowers in the wreath. "He will be deeply missed."

John blinked hard against the stiff breeze drying his eyes. Ford would be deeply missed, but not just by those in Atlantis….

_John glanced over at Aleah as they walked towards the doorstep of a small but well kept house. "Thanks for bringing me here." _

_There were still tear stains on her cheeks and her eyes were red, but her quiet voice was clear. "Aiden was right about you," she answered. "You are a man of honor to do this. The least I can do is help." _

_John said nothing as they stopped on the porch. Slowly, he removed his cover and tucked it tightly under his arm before reaching out and knocking on the door. After a minute, a kind faced, older woman opened the door and beamed. "Aleah! What a surprise!" She opened the door further, gesturing excitedly for them to enter. Aleah walked through the door ahead of John and stopped just inside the house. _

_The older woman pushed the door shut. "What brings you…" her voice trailed off as she took in the pained expression on Aleah's face before looking over at John. She looked back at Aleah. "What has happened?" _

"_Who's here?" An older man, with a light gray beard walked in from the next room. "Aleah!" As quickly as his smile appeared, it disappeared at her expression. _

_John cleared his throat. "Sir, ma'am," he nodded once, curtly, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. Your grandson served on a joint mission under my command." _

_The woman edged closer to her husband and took his hand as he put his arm around her shoulders. "What has happened to Aiden?" she asked._

_John took a deep breath, but Aleah beat him to the response. "Grandma, Aiden was killed in action."_

"_Ma'am, he died saving the lives of his team, including me," John added. "I'm sorry." _

_Sobbing, Aiden's grandma slowly turned her face into her husband's shoulder and he reached up, tenderly stroking her head. He turned sad eyes on John. "Colonel," he said with a slightly wavering voice, "thank you for telling us personally. In the one message we received last year, Aiden spoke very highly of you." Something akin of gratitude crossed the man's expression. "I can see why."_

_John reached into his pocket. "We couldn't… we weren't able to recover…." his voice trailed off and he shook his head slightly as he pulled out Ford's tags. "We only have these." He held them out towards the grandfather, but Aiden's grandmother was the one to take them. Her hand wrapped around the tags tightly and she brought her hand to her face. _

"_Thank you, Colonel," Aiden's grandfather answered. _

_John nodded back. "The Air Force… I," he amended, "I will help you however I can. Arrangements, personal effects, I'll take care of it." He held out a stark white business card. "You can reach me through this number. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate." _

_Aiden's grandfather took the card, his own tears coming freely…._

John took a deep breath and walked towards Elizabeth, his team plus Carson flanking him. From another side of the pier, a small group of Athosians, Halling and Jinto included, walked forward to join them. Halling's expression was stony and tears streamed down Jinto's face. Sympathetic, John took a moment to look Jinto in the eyes. Kindness warmed his expression and he tried to give the young boy as much reassurance as he could, without saying a word. Ever since Ford had been nearly killed looking for a lost Jinto early in the expedition, the two had developed an almost brotherly relationship. It'd hit Jinto hard when Ford went missing, but doubly so now. John took small consolation in the fact that the boy would now have closure and could grieve and move on, but it was small consolation to say the least.

He looked at Halling and nodded slightly in acknowledgement, a gesture Halling returned.

Teyla walked up behind Jinto and next to Halling. She placed her hands on the boy's shoulders, wincing just slightly, presumably at the stiffness of her still healing wound. "Ancestors who protect us and guide us," she said clearly, every bit the leader, her voice carrying over the pier. "Take this man into your fold, for he has a good heart and is worthy. Show him the way to your light, and guide his gentle soul to follow in your footsteps." She paused a moment before continuing. "Ancestors be blessed."

"Ancestors be blessed," Halling and Jinto repeated.

"Ancestors be blessed," Ronon answered quietly.

John's brows quirked in surprise and he looked over at Ronon who's face remained expressionless. The big Satedan's reply had surprised him, but then again, they knew very little about Satedan culture, so maybe it shouldn't have.

Wordlessly, Elizabeth took one side of the wreath, and Rodney took the other as they lifted it off the tripod, leaving the picture behind. Somber, they walked to the edge of the pier and John followed. As they stopped at the railing, John looked over at the brusque Marine sergeant leading the formal honor guard and gave him a nod. Slowly, John lifted his hand in a salute as each of the seven men in the honor guard, fired three shots in quick succession. Beside them, another Marine, this one with a spotlessly shiny bugle started playing Taps as Rodney and Elizabeth lifted the wreath over the railing. Silently, they let go, committing the wreath to the ocean as the last notes from the bugle faded away.

Slowly and with ceremony, John lowered his hand and faced the honor guard. "Dismissed." As they crisply turned and left, he took one deep breath and then another, willing the tension out of his shoulders. Silently walking around his team members, he stopped at the railing and looked down at the wreath as it bobbed about in the waves. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elizabeth walk up next to him, Carson right with her.

"It's no consolation," she ventured, her voice gentle, "but he's at peace now."

John stared at the wreath. "I know," he answered, his voice equally as quiet.

"He will always live in our memories, John." Teyla walked up on the other side of him, beside her was Rodney and behind John, as always, was Ronon.

Without saying a word, John could feel the calming and reassuring strength from his team and friends. He looked around at each of them, before giving one last look at the floating wreath. "Bye, Aiden," he said softly. Pushing away from the railing he turned towards the quiet city, her spires catching the afternoon sun.

"Well," Carson broke the silence, "I have a wee bottle of something to raise a glass to our friend, if you would care to join me?"

"A wee bottle of something?" Rodney questioned. "Care to translate that to English please?"

"Sixteen year old, single malt Scotch, Rodney," Carson answered, "'tis a fine drink, for a fine man."

John glanced over at Elizabeth and slowly smiled as he looked back at Carson. "Sounds good to me."

"Right then," Carson started walking away.

John followed, his team right with him. He quirked his brows in mild amusement, the memories of Ford and the thoughts of Scotch mingling in his mind. "Remember when Ford got drunk on Palla?" he asked no one in particular, his own memories of Ford stumbling his way to the gate, broadening his smile some.

"Remember?" Rodney answered, "You weren't the one that had to practically carry him through the gate."

"If I remember correctly," Teyla interjected, "you were as… unstable as Ford was," she arched a brow at Rodney.

"I had such a headache the next day," Elizabeth added.

John silently met gazes with Teyla as the discussion continued around him, complete with Rodney's loud denial that he'd been about as drunk as Ford had been.

Silently and subtly, Teyla reached out and squeezed John's forearm in understanding and, as was par for the course with them, he didn't need to say anything in return. They'd never forget Ford, but they couldn't dwell in the past either.

Holding his smile, John took one last look across the pier, before he followed his team back into Atlantis.

* * *

_Author's Notes: This is a story I've wanted to write for a LONG time. One of those lingering plot bunnies that I think I have now successfully defanged. ;) I never liked the canon resolution (or lack thereof) of Ford's storyline. They really left everything dangling and unresolved, with the presumption that he'd just… died on the hive. (insert handwave here) I always thought Ford's character deserved a worthy wrap up. Though, working within canon, I can't see how his story would've ended any other way, but dying. But, I wanted to give him a death with meaning. I hope I achieved that. :)_

_Big thanks to LJ: FireDew1 for the awesome beta (yes, I do have repetitive favorite words! LOL) and to LJ: TanaquiSGA for helping me come up with a summary for this story, something that I always have problems with! _

_SgaFan_


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